


Not About Heroes

by EmilyRose34



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Careers (Hunger Games), Complete, Eventual Romance, F/M, Forced Prostitution, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining, Pre-Canon, Prequel, Slow Burn, Starcrossed Lovers, Suicidal Thoughts, some smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:29:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 22
Words: 68,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24429520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmilyRose34/pseuds/EmilyRose34
Summary: Finnick will do anything to get out of mentoring at this year’s Hunger Games. He knows the things he’ll be forced to do when he arrives in the Capitol. But when his godmother’s only daughter, Annie, is chosen as District 4’s tribute, Finnick has no choice but to try his best to bring her home. But although Finnick is a national hero in Panem, as a mentor he’s never got a tribute through the Games alive.As Annie and Finnick navigate demanding sponsors, ruthless Gamemakers and deadly tributes, how much will they both have to sacrifice to keep Annie alive? And will their growing feelings for each other put them in even more danger?
Relationships: Annie Cresta & Finnick Odair, Annie Cresta/Finnick Odair
Comments: 36
Kudos: 90





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains themes surrounding violence, death, sexual coercion, mental health issues and suicidal thoughts, so please proceed with caution if any of these are sensitive topics for you.

Tonight she was going to make sure that Finnick noticed her.

Annie fixed the chain of paper streamers to the tree, looking at the back garden with pride. As well as the decorations, which Annie had been working on for days, they had a buffet table spread with a white cloth and a few lanterns dotted about the garden which glimmered in the fading light. And of course there was the piano, which they had moved out onto the back terrace. Finnick was going to be so pleased, to be surrounded by all his family and friends on his first night back from the Capitol.

Annie felt a pleasurable shiver of excitement as she thought about Finnick. He had looked so beautiful on the television, as the President placed the golden crown on his head. The youngest Victor since... well, as long as she could remember. Annie had been worried when her mother and Mrs Cresta had first discussed a homecoming party for Finnick. Wouldn’t he be worn out, after all he had gone through in the games? But if his own mother thought it was a good idea, then it must be. They were all responsible for keeping Finnick’s spirits up, a job which Annie took very seriously.

“Annie?” Her mother emerged from the house, carrying a tray of food. “The door just went – can you get it?”

Annie had been so busy thinking that she hadn’t even heard the bell. She jumped down from the stool and scampered through the house to let the first guests in. As she approached the door, she pulled down the ruffled skirt of her dress, which her mother had made brand-new for this evening. She wanted to look as nice as possible for the Odairs. She knew that most boys didn’t care about what girls wore, but she thought Finnick was an exception.

When she got to the door, she realised that it wasn’t Finnick’s family. Just some old friends of her mother’s. Trying to hide her disappointment, Annie took their coats and pointed them in the direction of the garden, where they were soon joined by a few more guests.

Annie was now trapped at the door showing people in, which she didn’t mind so much. She would rather be here than sitting awkwardly in a corner somewhere, not knowing who to talk to or what to say. And her position meant she would be the first to see Finnick when he arrived. She was going to tell him how she was glad he was home in District 4, and that she’d missed him while he was away. Well, maybe she wouldn’t say that last part because it sounded a bit soppy.

Annie’s mother bustled over. “I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to leave you stuck here. I’ll take over.”

“But mamma –”

“Go on. Be sure that everyone’s has a good time.”

Annie knew there was no point in arguing with her mother, so she went back towards the garden. It was disappointing that she wouldn’t be the first to greet Finnick when he arrived, but maybe if she stood here she could catch him as soon as he got into the garden. And then she could say something to him.

Melody and Flora, who were both in her class at school, were sitting on one of the rugs in the garden, eating carrot sticks. Annie hung back so the girls wouldn’t see her, because if they did, they would probably make a very deliberate show of not including her. Despite this, Annie could still hear what they were saying.

“I like her dress,” said Flora, nodding her head in the direction of another girl from school. “I want one just like it for my next birthday, except in red not that wishy-washy colour.”

Melody leaned in closer to her friend. “Did you see what Annie was wearing?”

Both girls burst into a fit of giggles.

“She might as well have worn a potato sack.”

Annie looked away, so they wouldn’t realise that she’d overheard. She knew she should just ignore them, that’s what adults were always telling her. Sticks and stones, and all of that... But it was a lot easier to say that than it was to do it. Other people’s words had a habit of getting inside Annie’s brain. The tiered skirt of her soft green dress, which has seemed so pretty when Annie chose the pattern, now seemed to droop like the petals of a wilted flower.

She heard another burst of laughter from Melody and Flora. Annie couldn’t stand it any longer, and escaped to the bottom of the garden. If she got out of the crowd even for a few moments, that would allow her time to calm down so that she could greet Finnick with a fresh smile.

In the darkness at the end of the garden, Annie slipped off her shoes, hoisted up her skirt and clambered into the tree by the fence. Annie was pretty good at climbing, though it was much easier when she was in shorts. Still, she managed to hoist herself onto a good solid branch, so she could sit and watch the party without anyone noticing she was there.

She had tried so hard to look nice for Finnick, but now it felt like the evening was spoiled already. Annie didn’t stand a chance anyway. Everyone would want to speak to Finnick tonight, and he probably wouldn’t even notice her.

Annie saw that all the guests were gathering by the back door. There was a light smattering of applause, which could only mean that the Odair family was finally here. Annie craned her neck, preparing herself for her first in-person look at Finnick since he won the games. Her eyes caught a shock of familiar tousled hair. It really was him, at last. Annie craned her neck to get a good view of Panem’s newest Victor. She was relieved to see that he hadn’t changed at all, with no scars or any other visible signs of what he’s been through.

Finnick was surrounded by people, which was no surprise. Whether he was in the school playground or among the Capitol elite, he was always the centre of the crowd. Everyone clamoured for his attention, and Finnick seemed determined to be fair, sharing it with everyone equally. With the men, he shook hands soberly and accepted their congratulations. Even at fourteen, he was nearly as tall as them and there was something adult about the way he stood. With his mothers' friends, he allowed himself to be petted and hugged, to be told how clever he was but how he needed feeding up now he was back home.

She noticed with a pang that he had gone over to Melody and Flora, sweetly teasing them while they giggled and twittered. All the girls at school liked Finnick now. It wasn’t fair, because Annie had liked him first, before he had been chosen for the games. But Finnick didn’t know that, and how could Annie compete with Melody’s confidence and feisty humour? Annie watched Finnick laughing with Melody, and it made her insides ache.

"Aren't we going to dance?" asked Finnick.

Annie's mother let the other guests lead her to the piano. It was old and always a little out of tune from the sea air, but Mrs Cresta played so well that people hardly noticed. She struck up a lively tune, and couples linked arms. Annie watched Finnick spin Melody. He was almost painfully beautiful, his hair disordered and his eyes attentively focused on his partner.

Annie tried to imagine what would happen if Finnick asked her to dance instead. His hands would be warm and strong as he guided her through the steps, and he wouldn’t take his eyes off her. The other girls would stare, wondering what made Annie special. But she wouldn't be embarrassed, not with Finnick's reassuring grip.

Finnick was on his feet for the first five dances, each with different partners. When the next began, Melody tried to encourage him to go with her again, but he declined politely and broke away from the party, into the garden. Finnick’s path took him directly towards the tree that Annie was hiding in. For a wild moment, she thought he really was going to ask her to dance. Had he seen her through the leaves?

But Finnick didn’t look up at her. Instead, he leant against the tree opposite, inhaling deeply. He hadn’t seen her. Annie had to grab her chance to speak with him, before anyone else came over. She clambered down, trying not to look awkward. She didn’t want Finnick to laugh at her for scaling trees in a party frock.

Finnick had his eyes closed, and didn’t seem to notice her.

Annie came closer, pushing her hair out of her eyes. "Finnick?"

She was so nervous that her voice came out like a squeak.

He opened his eyes. "Annie. Hello."

His mouth briefly formed a beautiful smile, framed by dimples. Annie hoped he would carry on speaking, but he didn't. It was up to her to fill the silence.

"I'm glad you're back."

She was so used to seeing Finnick's image on a screen that having him in front of her was strange. It was tempting to touch him, to check that he was a fully formed person and not a projection.

His return wasn't something that anyone in District 4 had taken for granted. It was true that Finnick was everything a Victor should be – strong, skilled, brave – and had enough charm to make all Panem fall in love with him. But only one person could survive the Hunger Games, and Finnick had been fighting vicious contestants four years older than he was. His chances of winning had seemed slim, despite his brilliance. But he really was back.

Now she was closer, Annie could see the marks left by the games, small imperfections which the Capitol had concealed during interviews. He had light lavender smudges beneath his eyes, and his forehead was sun kissed from the arena. 

"Are you going to congratulate me on my victory?" asked Finnick, one corner of his mouth teasing upwards.

That was what everyone had been doing this evening. But Annie desperately wanted to say something memorable.

"I'm glad your parents have you back," she said, her throat dry.

Finnick didn't say anything.

"Are you enjoying the party?" she asked, hoping it would prompt him to ask her to dance.

"Yes," said Finnick, but his voice was clipped and without enthusiasm. "Thank you. It must have been a lot of hassle for you and your mother."

She wanted to tell him that they had done it to celebrate his return, not to commemorate the horrible things he had been forced to do. But she didn’t know how to say it.

"I was happy to do it," Annie said at last.

She left other things unspoken. That she had cried the day he was reaped. There was a photograph of him in her diary, clipped from the official Hunger Games programme. She had watched every moment of the broadcast she could, even though all the blood and fighting scared her. It was hard because Finnick was a national hero now, and she was just a nothing. How was she supposed to catch his interest and make him forget about the games, especially when he was a full two years older than her?

Finnick pushed back his hair, which was damp with sweat at the temples from dancing. "Annie?"

"Hm?" Annie's heart caught in her throat.

"Say thank you to your mother for the party. It's been great, but..."

“You’re going already?” Annie tried not to sound disappointed. There were so many things she wanted to tell him.

"Tell my parents I'll see them back at the house."

"But don’t you think they'll miss you?"

"I came back from an arena of almost certain death. They can do without me for one night."

Finnick smiled, but that didn't mask a slight coldness in his voice. Annie watched him undo the ramshackle fence at the bottom of the garden, disappearing into the night. She felt tears of humiliation welling up in the back of her eyes. Annie scampered back towards the house, not wanting him to see that she was such a little kid. It wasn't surprising that Finnick Odair was bored by her. She'd bore anyone. She might as well be dead, for all that anyone cared about her.


	2. The Reaping

_Five years later_

Finnick had spent the whole day mentally rehearsing saying 'no'. It wasn't a word which had been allowed much place in his life before now.

As was the custom the night before the reaping, the victors from District 4 had planned a formal dinner to entertain the Capitol escort. Finnick made the occasional witty quip and laughed where necessary, but he didn't take any of it in. Maximus, their delegate, guffawed loudly, almost spitting wine out of his mouth. He had almond eyes and a shocking crest of electric blue hair. He told them that he'd had it specially dyed in honour of his relationship to the sea district. Finnick privately thought that no body of water had ever been such a glaring shade of cerulean, but he smiled as if it was a huge compliment.

He was running through all the reasons why he should not mentor at this year’s Hunger Games. He had done it every year since being crowned victor, and he had lost every single tribute. At nineteen, he was by far the youngest and least knowledgeable of the victors. Although President Snow had certain other uses for him in the Capitol, he could definitely put them off for another year. District 4 had enough tributes to share the responsibility around a bit, and this time it was someone else’s turn.

Finnick waited until after the dinner to corner Maximus. As the other victors were dispersing, Finnick poured a glass of wine.

"Can I tempt you with another drink?" he asked, smiling coyly.

Maximus took the glass, his clammy fingers spongy against Finnick's.

"Finnick..." Maximus gave him a long look. "You get more statuesque every year."

Finnick smiled, as if these kinds of compliments were expected but still enjoyable to receive.

"I want to bring you with me to all the best parties this season. When you're not mentoring your little one, of course."

Finnick kept his voice innocuous, spontaneous. "You see - Maximus, you don't know how much I'd like to go, but...I'm not mentoring this year."

"Not mentoring?"

"Cathal and Peggy are going." Finnick had to force himself not to pick at his sleeve, a bad habit he had acquired over the past few years. He had already worked a hole in the cuff of his shirt in anticipation of his chat with Maximus. "Otherwise you know I would. District 4 is so dry compared to the Capitol. No good pickings at all."

"But isn’t President Snow expecting you?"

Was there a hint of a threat in Maximus' tone, or was Finnick overthinking? He wished he’d had a chance to discuss this with Mags, his own former mentor, but she had pneumonia at the moment and couldn’t see anyone.

"I know," he smiled. "But I've mentored at every Hunger Games since I was fifteen. It's exhausting. If I don't have a year away from it, I don't think I'll be able to give it my best."

"Well..." Maximus narrowed his eyes and took a swig of wine.

Finnick pushed back his hair, then clamped his hands to his sides so he wouldn't look nervous. He wasn't. There was nothing to be nervous about. He was just taking a year for himself. It wasn't like he was refusing to go back to the Capitol indefinitely.

“The thing is –"

"That’s very disappointing, of course. We'll have to find other ways to keep ourselves entertained."

Maximus laughed harshly, squalling like a gull. Finnick joined in, half-pleased and half-uneasy by how simple that had been. He hadn’t even gone through his full list of reasons. Now he had a whole year before he would have to go back and resume service at the Capitol.

***

"How could you promise that?"

Hot tears burned Annie's cheeks. She glared at her mother.

"I didn't think you'd mind." Mrs Cresta tried to pin a flower in her daughter's hair, but Annie shrugged her away. "We're going to be late for the Reaping –"

"I don't care!" Annie knew she was behaving childishly, but she couldn't stop. "I'd rather do anything than play a duet with Gethin."

While they were getting ready, her mother had casually told her that she had volunteered Annie to play in the school's end of year concert. As if it didn't matter! Her mother didn't understand that Annie wasn't a natural pianist like she was. If she was being stared at by fifty people, her fingers would lose all musical ability.

"But his mother kept complaining about it," said Mrs Cresta. "She couldn't find a partner."

"That's because no one likes him! He always eats his food with his mouth open. It's –"

"You just have to play a duet with him at a school concert. No one’s asking you to marry him."

“But –"

“How do you think that boy will feel, if his mother can’t find anyone to play with him?”

Annie got teased enough at school without playing at the concert with _Gethin_. But she couldn’t tell her mother that, or she’d insist on talking to the teachers, which would just get Annie into more trouble with the other students.

"I can't do it!" said Annie. "Not with everyone watching me..."

"Enough, Annie!” said her mother fiercely. “You'll play with Gethin, and you can stop acting like it’s traumatising you. Now sit down and let me finish."

Annie did as she was told. Mrs Cresta took up the brush and dragged it impatiently through her dark, waist length hair. Annie hated it when her mother did that, as it took out the curls and left it all lank and shapeless. But Annie didn’t complain, even when the brush caught two-day tangles. Her mother didn't raise her voice often, but when she did it was best not to argue.

They walked to the Justice Building in silence. Annie usually waited for a kiss on the cheek from her mother before she went to the registers. Today she turned away and marched up to the officials without saying goodbye. She didn't need luck anyway. Her name was only entered into the draw five times, the minimum number possible at her age. The nets she wove with her mother were plenty enough to keep them fed. She didn't need to apply for extra rations from the Capitol, unlike poorer children who lived in the shanty huts inland.

Once she had signed in, Annie was shepherded into the pen with the others her age and ended up next to Melody, Flora and their friends. They were all holding hands like they did every Reaping Day, hoping not to be chosen. Annie tried to look away, but she wasn’t quick enough. Melody had seen her, and then she deliberately angled her body away from Annie and towards her friends. It was a tiny movement, but it gave a clear signal – Annie wasn’t part of their group, even today.

Annie flushed, but she wasn’t surprised. She was used to snubs like this. It would just be nice to have someone’s hand to hold while she waited for the ceremony to be over.

All the important people were gathering on the stage in front of the Justice Building, signalling the Reaping was about to start. Good, the sooner it happened, the sooner it would be over. Mayor Weatherford, a calm but keenly intelligent woman, was greeting Maximus, the Capitol escort. They were both using gestures which were cheerful and slightly over the top, presumably because they knew they were being filmed.

A stir rippled through the crowd, signalling Finnick's arrival. Annie saw him stepping up onto the platform, looking tanned and handsome and almost bored. She could sense the excitement from many girls around her, but there was also a feeling of disapproval. Some people didn’t like the way Finnick behaved in the Capitol, how he always seemed to have some important and fabulously wealthy citizen on his arm. People in the district thought it was degrading, but Annie knew Finnick was just so magnetic the Capitol all flocked to him. Annie hadn’t spoken to her mother’s godson in a long time, but she was sure Finnick would never deliberately court the Capitol’s attention – he was just playing their games, like everyone in the districts had to, one way or the other.

As Finnick looked out over the crowd, Annie quickly dropped her gaze so he wouldn’t see her and think she was goggling at him along with everyone else.

"Today we select the bravest hero and heroine amongst you,” said Maximus, starting off the ceremony. “We are looking for the strongest arms, the sharpest minds, the surest aim - in short, the very best."

Annie couldn't believe she would have to listen to variations on the same awful speech every year until she died, and her children afterwards. Didn't the Capitol know that they just wanted peace, and the chance to get on with their lives? No one questioned their authority, or their ability to enforce it.

"I'll start with the boys..."

Maximus read out a name. Annie didn't recognise it, which meant the boys in her class were safe. Well, until next year's reaping. The boy who had been selected walked forwards. He had curling fair hair and broad shoulders, though he wasn’t very tall.

As the boy climbed the stairs, Annie felt her heart pinch. He only had one arm – his left limb finished at the elbow. A sympathetic murmur rippled through the crowd, but if the boy was afraid, he didn’t show it.

Maximus asked for volunteers, but his request was half-hearted. District 4 hadn't produced a volunteer in several years. Although traditionally they were – along with 1 and 2 – thought of as a Career district, nowadays the title was mostly nominal.

Mayor Weatherford has quietly siphoned away most of the money for the schools' once extensive training programmes to fund better shipping equipment and lighthouses. Some of the older victors grumbled about slipping standards and youngsters who only cared about beach parties and water sports. However, most citizens were more concerned with having better food and fewer boating accidents.

"I do! I'll do it."

A voice. Everyone in the crowd looked about in all directions, searching for the speaker. A tall, wiry boy who must have been at least seventeen was striding towards the stage. The other children fell away, letting him pass.

"What a dashing young hero..." Maximus looked the boy up and down. "And what might your name be?"

"Glynn."

The fair boy, the original tribute, tried to push in front of Glynn, but with no success. Glynn seemed solid as the clifftops. For a moment, it looked like it might turn into a scuffle, but Maximus quickly put his hands on both their shoulders.

"I know it's very disappointing to be chosen but not allowed to go," said Maximus. "But Glynn's claim unfortunately supersedes yours. If I could take you both, you know I would."

The fair boy cast an angry look between Glynn and Maximus, but then backed away. He should be thanking Glynn for saving his life.

"Tell me, Glynn, why did you volunteer?" asked Maximus.

"To provide for my family, and for the honour of my district."

There was a pause. Maximus was clearly expecting more, but Glynn was silent, staring stonily ahead.

_He'll have to be more charming if he wants sponsors_ , thought Annie.

"Right, well – onto the girls..." said Maximus, reaching for another name.

Annie's stomach clenched. She knew her fear was irrational, but she couldn't help it in the seconds leading up to the announcement. Her mother used to sit with her and work out the probability of being chosen. Annie knew it was almost zero, and yet her heart palpitated and the air caught in her throat. She closed her eyes, and took in a slow, calming breath. She only had to get through a few more minutes, and next year’s ceremony, and then she would be safe. Once she turned nineteen, she would never have to worry about going into that arena.

When Annie glanced up, the girls were looking around. Maximus must have made the announcement, which she had missed. She tried to see which unlucky girl was moving towards the stage to face her fate, but everyone seemed still.

"Come on," said Maximus impatiently.

Melody and Flora were whispering to each other. They looked over at her.

"Annabelle Cresta?" said Maximus, scanning the crowd hopefully.

The words sounded like her name. A mistake, she had heard wrong. There must be an Anya or Alice.

Two Peacekeepers pushed through the crowd in her direction.

"It's wrong,” she gabbled. “I'm not –"

They grabbed her, literally lifting her feet off the ground. The pain in her arms was what finally convinced Annie that this was real. She was District 4's new tribute.

The Peacekeepers dragged her up the stairs and dumped her at Maximus' feet like a crate of fish. He spoke to her, his white teeth glinting. Annie backed away, knocking into a Peacekeeper.

"Do we have any volunteers?" Maximus addressed the crowd.

Yes, someone would take her place. Annie had forgotten that was possible. But there must be a girl stupid enough to risk their life for money and fame. The crowd was still, quiet. What were they waiting for?

"Ladies, you can't let yourselves be outdone by Glynn," said Maximus, but he didn't sound hopeful.

Another pause.

Maximus turned back to her. "You're in luck, Annabelle. It seems that you'll have the honour of joining Glynn in the Capitol."

He looked at her meaningfully. She was supposed to say something worthy of being broadcast in every home throughout Panem.

"Y-yes," she tried to speak, her throat dry and tasting of bile.

For the first time, she saw her face looming on one of the screens behind the crowd. This would be the nation's first impression of her. She looked pale and small. The tight knot of hair her mother had pinned up was starting to fall apart.

"Sorry, Annabelle. Didn't catch that." Maximus forced the microphone into her face.

Annie looked up, a thick sob rising in her throat. "That's not my name."

She wanted to ask for someone’s help. Instead, she vomited all over the platform. It splattered everywhere, on the boards, in her hair, on Maximus' suit. The disgust on his face made her wonder if she would even make it to the Games at all.

Laughter rippled through the crowd. It was only quiet, but it still stung. Annie sobbed, the tears mixing with the bile, plastering her hair to her cheeks.

"Congratulations, both of you, and –" Maximus' voice was cut off by a horrible shriek.

A wild-haired woman was running towards the stage. It was Annie's mother. Her face was white and she looked almost inhuman, like one of the sea ghosts that they whispered tales about around the campfires.

"Annie!"

Annie hurled herself towards her mother, trampling through vomit. It would be alright. Her mother would find some way to save her.

"Mamma!"

Annie desperately reached forwards. She was so close to grabbing her mother’s hands, until Peacekeepers hauled her back by the waist. Annie's cries became a high-pitched wail as they dragged her inside, slamming the doors of the Justice Building.


	3. The Pact

Finnick sat on the edge of the stage, watching the remains of the crowd dribble away. The show was over. Poor Annie...

"Finnick!"

It was Annie’s mother. The last person that anyone wanted to speak to today.

"Mrs Odair..." he had no idea what to say.

She stared at him, her eyes hollow. "You have to save her."

"That’s not in my power, I’m afraid. She's been selected."

"But, in the Capitol... You can find her sponsors. Teach her how to survive."

Annie's mother didn’t know what she was asking. She had no idea about the things he had to do when he went to the Capitol. But he couldn't watch the tears running down her face, her shawl trailing in the dust. He redirected his focus to his jacket, carefully unfolding and smoothing out the cuffs.

"I can't help. I'm not mentoring this year."

"But you could do-"

"It's not my turn." Finnick said, more sharply than he'd meant to. He instantly regretted it. Mrs Cresta had just learnt that her only child was being sent to a vicious bloodbath, one that she would very probably not survive. Finnick could afford to be less hostile. "Cathal and Peggy are the mentors this year. They'll give her the best support."

"But you two grew up together. She needs your help. Keep her safe for me."

Finnick's memories of Annie were hazy at best. She had always been slight and quiet, and beyond being the daughter of his mother’s best friend, he had never thought much about her. Better not tell Mrs Cresta that.

"I'm not – I've never brought a tribute back from the Games alive. I think-"

Mrs Cresta started sobbing, an ugly noise which made the people around them stare.

"Finnick, I brought her up by myself. I always wanted her to feel safe, she was a nervous child and I gave her nightlights and lucky charms to stop her being scared. But now...there's nothing I can do."

"But there's nothing _I_ can do either-"

"I don't think of myself as a wife. It's been so long since my husband died. But I have done my best to be a good mother, and now the Capitol have taken that too."

Finnick lowered his voice. "Mrs Cresta, please be careful-"

He could guarantee that there would still be news teams in the area, looking for extra snippets of drama to use on the re-runs.

Mrs Cresta laughed bitterly. "What will the Capitol do? I don't have any more children for them to kill."

"Annie's not dead." Finnick spoke quickly, concentrating more on stopping her from speaking than on what he was actually saying. "And she won't... Mrs Cresta, I promise your daughter will come back. I will bring her home."

The words sounded almost heroic. It was too bad they had been said by him. Finnick Odair, who might be pretty enough to be the Capitol's pet, but couldn't think up strategies to keep his tributes alive.

_Well, there's a first time for everything_ , he thought grimly as he accepted Mrs Cresta's tearful thanks.

***

"After you," Finnick held back to avoid a collision, and made what he hoped was a polite gesture indicating Peggy had priority.

She didn't acknowledge him as she climbed on board the train. Finnick followed her, the hot flare of camera lights on his back. He assumed Peggy would go straight to her compartment, but instead she turned right, into the dining car. He guessed they might as well get the initial awkwardness over with.

The train began to move as Finnick sat on the couch opposite Peggy. She stared at him with stony, expressionless eyes, which was more hostile than an outright glare would be. A square-shouldered and solidly built woman with thick black hair, she had won the Games with her excellent survival skills and fearsome use of spears.

"Cathal and I decided to swap," said Finnick, trying to break the silence.

"I know," said Peggy shortly, adjusting her glasses.

The reporters would be hoping for a final glimpse of the team from District 4 before the train left the station. No, not hoping - _expecting_. Finnick swallowed a sigh and went to the window so he could do his usual 'cocky grin and wave'. Peggy folded her arms, the action both antagonistic and judgemental.

"You really enjoy running off to the Capitol every year, don't you?"

He turned to Peggy. Finnick would love to defend himself, but he knew he couldn’t. While it was important to be careful in the districts, you had to be ten times more cautious when in the Capitol's domain. You never knew who might be listening.

Finnick fixed a defiantly lazy smile on his face. "It's an honour to serve the Capitol by making the Games the best they can be. Don't you agree?"

"Obviously," said Peggy.

The train was far enough out of the station that Finnick decided he could give up the waving. He sank down into the soft cushions, feeling more tired than he probably should do. And there was still so much ahead of him.

"I just don't think mentors should use the Games as an excuse to socialise and show off. We have a serious job to do,” said Peggy.

She had no idea. "I know."

Peggy was an older victor, nearing thirty, and while she hadn't volunteered for the Games, she had grown up with a level of training and discipline completely lacking in Finnick's generation. She was definitely one of the people from his district who didn’t look kindly on his exploits in the Capitol.

"Shall we draw lots on who's mentoring which kid, or do you have a preference?"

"Annie," he said. "Her mother asked me to look out for her."

"Fine by me. I don't want to be scrubbing sick off my clothes for the next week."

“OK. If that’s decided, I’m going to dump my things.”

Finnick grabbed his bag and ducked out of the room quickly, before Peggy could see his expression.

His compartment was the same as ever, fitted with well-made furniture which hinted at the extravagance ready to consume them once they got to the Capitol. Finnick unpacked the essentials, but left as much as he could in his holdall. When he'd told his mother that he was going to be a mentor this year after all, she had nodded solemnly.

"Such a sweet girl. You should definitely go to the Games. Make sure she’s looked after."

Finnick wondered now whether his mother would still approve of his plan if she knew everything about his visits to the Capitol. He shouldn't think about it, because then he started imagining what his parents would say if they found out. Finnick dreaded that even more than actually having to visit the Capitol in the first place.

Before he went to dinner, Finnick took up his razor and quickly shaved his stubble. Maximus was always harping on about presentation, and it was best to act as if he cared about his opinions. Finnick stared at himself in the mirror. This was the face that launched a thousand ships, as a TV presenter had said last year – the face that caused a thousand problems, more like.

If the line of his jaw, the colour of his eyes and the shape of his mouth didn't come together into what some people considered an attractive whole, where would he be now? Would he be on his father's fishing boat, with endless waves in all directions, rather than boxed up in a train being carried to a torture chamber? Actually, he would most likely be dead. He'd won the Games because of an expensive gift, one that had been given because of the pleasures the Capitol elite anticipated from him. It was a debt he'd be paying back forever.

As he stood with the razor in his hand, Finnick wondered for one wild moment what would happen if he stopped them from wanting him. How much of his face would he have to cut up before he wasn’t worth looking at? Before he had properly thought about the question, he knew the answer. It didn't matter, because whatever he did, the Capitol's scientists would find a way to reassemble him.

Finnick splashed his face with cold water, then patted it dry. It was strange, he almost didn't recognise his own features, even though he was saturated with pictures and videos of himself whenever he turned on the television. Perhaps that was the reason – he was so used to seeing himself groomed, lit and edited the way the Capitol wanted, that he barely recognised an untouched version of himself.

He was the last person to arrive for dinner, barring Annie. Maximus smiled slyly when Finnick came in. He was smoking a long cigarette in a coiled holder like a snake, and surrounded by a green haze.

"Finnick Odair..." he said, putting a hand on Finnick's arm.

"It seems I have enough fuel in the tank for one more year," smiled Finnick.

"You're too modest - the Mentor Centre wouldn't be half as attractive without you. Something told me you'd change your mind," Maximus left his hand on Finnick's shoulder. "Who could resist the wild parties, the delicious scandal, the music so loud it fills your bones?"

Why wasn't Maximus at least a little surprised that Finnick had changed his mind? Maybe he knew Annie was a family friend. Finnick didn't like to think that might be the case. If Maximus knew, then that meant the rest of the Capitol probably did as well, including Snow. For Annie's safety, as well as his own, it was better that they didn't find out she had a special claim on him. He didn't know how they would use it against him, but he was sure they would find a way.

"What's for dinner?" asked the boy tribute, Glynn.

"Miss Cresta hasn't arrived yet. Bring her, will you?" Maximus waved imperiously at an Avox, who promptly vanished in the direction of Annie's room.

"She'll be here soon," said Finnick, as a way of filling the silence while they waited. Glynn gave him a stony look. Finnick didn’t know what he’d done to annoy this boy, but actually he didn’t really care either. 

The attendant returned, her face anxious. "She says she doesn't want anything."

"She needs proper food," said Finnick. "We'll be in the Capitol soon."

"She wouldn't let me in. I'm sorry."

"Stupid girl," sighed Peggy.

"I suppose we'll have to start without her," Maximus poured a liberal amount of wine into Finnick's glass. "We can't have the Capitol's favourite victor going hungry, can we?"

If Peggy had opinions about Maximus' comment, she hid them well.

Finnick got to his feet, "I should see Annie. Bring her some food."

"Send one of the attendants with a tray."

"Thank you, Maximus, but I'm her mentor. You have to let me do my job."

Finnick knocked three times on Annie's door before he got a reply, and even then it was just a plea to be left alone.

"Annie, please," Finnick's voice sounded pathetic even to his own ears. "I have your dinner."

"I don't want anything."

He had to remind himself not to get angry. Annie was signed up for a fight to the death. A little stubbornness was to be expected.

"Annie, I've been talking with your mother."

"What?"

Finnick hoped this would be enough to bait her into letting him in. Once they were talking he could begin finding out who this girl really was. And, more importantly, how he could make the Capitol interested in her.

"Let me in," he said.

There was a long, unresponsive silence. He was about to try again, when he heard the sound of the door unlocking.

Finnick took a moment to focus himself before he went in. Speaking to tributes was never easy, especially on the train before they'd had time to accept their situation. He edged into the room, not sure what he would find there. Finnick had seen children sobbing hysterically or smashing up every piece of furniture in sight. Annie, he saw, was doing neither of those things. She sat motionless on the floor, hands folded in her lap, hair trailing down her back like seaweed.

"I'm going to die," she said quietly, not looking at him.

"You don't know that-"

"I'm not strong. I can't fight. I'm not even good at interviews - I have nothing."

Finnick sat down beside Annie, pushing the tray of food in her direction. He hated this. What was he meant to say? What sort of consolation could he give?

"You have other things. Survival skills are just as important."

"What would happen if I got injured before the Games? Would they still make me go through with it? What if I died?"

This had spiralled too quickly for him to keep up. He couldn't do this. His only skill was whispering sweet nothings in the ears of Capitol citizens.

"Annie, this isn't – I spoke to your mother after the reaping."

She turned her face to him. There were glistening marks on her cheeks, like snail trails. She had clearly been crying for hours.

"What did she say?" Annie leaned forwards.

"She asked me to keep you safe," Finnick said. "And I promised her I would."

He didn't look at Annie in case she started laughing at him. How could he make that promise, when nothing in the Games was under his control?

"How is she? The Peacekeepers wouldn't let me see her. They said it would upset me."

"She's worried about you."

"The last time we spoke...I was angry with her. We’d argued about something stupid."

Finnick sensed Annie was about to bubble over again. He tried to curb it.

"That doesn't matter."

"Please tell her - you know, that I love her."

"You'll tell her yourself. I am going to do everything I can to make sure you see your mother again. But I can't win the Games for you, Annie. You have to help me."

“How?”

“Well, to start with, you need to eat something.”

Annie’s eyes wandered listlessly over the plate of food. “I’m not hungry.”

Finnick broke a roll of bread in half. He took a bite from one piece and held the other out to Annie. “It isn’t poisoned.”

She reluctantly accepted it from him and began to nibble one end.

“I’m sorry that you’re stuck with me,” she said.

Maybe she was feeling too overwhelmed to think about _winning_ the Games. He should start with something smaller.

“Let’s put the actual Games to one side for now. The first thing we have to think about is the tribute parade. That’s going to be your chance to shine for the Capitol.”

She gave a half-shrug. “I just don’t see the point.”

“Your mother is going to be watching. How do you think she’ll feel if she sees you crying and refusing to take part?”

He hoped his gamble would pay off.

“I don’t know...”

“Do you want her to see you making the best impression possible? Or giving up before you’ve even started?”

Annie looked at him, and he could tell from her eyes that she knew he was right.

“Fine,” she said at last. “I’ll do whatever you say.”

Any glimmer of pride that Finnick felt in talking Annie around was extinguished quickly. Nothing about this winsome, awkward girl suggested a potential victor. But what was Finnick supposed to do? That paper slip at the Reaping Ceremony was Annie’s ticket to the arena, and there was no way of changing the destination. He would just have to help her as best he could, and try not to let it get to him when – _if_ – he failed.

***

"Come on out, my dearest, and show Mr Odair how divine you look."

Annie dragged herself from behind the screen. Finnick had insisted on coming to her fitting, ignoring all the excuses she invented to try to keep him away.

"Here we are!" her stylist, Myron, exclaimed.

He took Annie's hand and pulled her to the mirror. Her feet were barely able to keep up with his movements. Finnick watched her reflection critically, as if he were inspecting a peach at the fruit market. Annie tried not to look at him, or herself, but that was basically impossible considering she was standing directly in front of a load of mirrors.

"As you see, I designed this to evoke a free and easy beach party. Notice the ruffles - they make the whole outfit more playful."

"Hm," Finnick walked around Annie, taking her in from every angle. Well, not _her_ , just her body.

Myron had designed the worst opening ceremony outfit in the history of District 4. The only exception was possibly the year the tributes had been dressed as a dolphin and an octopus. Annie had been squeezed into a vibrant pink crop top and a tiny ruffled skirt, with heavy tropical flowers wreathed around her neck. It was all impossibly tacky, made from a horrible synthetic fabric. She thought longingly of the oversized cotton blouses and trailing skirts patterned in bright flowers – the things people in Four actually wore to beach parties.

"I'm sorry, Myron. It's a lovely design and it makes her legs look great, but this isn't going to work."

There was nothing salacious in Finnick's words. All he was thinking about was how the Capitol would react to her. He cared about the outfit and how it made her look, not what was beneath her skin.

"But beachwear is very 'in' this season," Myron sniffed, offended.

“Of course it is. There isn’t a beach in the whole city,” Finnick gave Annie a sly smile, then quickly turned a more serious expression back to Myron. “But I just think it’s too...it doesn’t show her off.”

What was Finnick talking about? Annie was embarrassed by _how much_ of her was being shown off as it was.

“We could change the skirt to a sarong wrap? It would make the whole outfit look more relaxed,” said her stylist.

“We need something classical, timeless. She has that sort of look,” said Finnick. “But it must be sexy.”

“Sexy classical?” Myron raised an arched brow.

“What about the legends they tell in District Four, about sea witches and mermaids?” said Annie.

“My sweet, mermaids are so overdone,” said Myron.

Annie decided it would be best to stay quiet. She stood motionless as Finnick adjusted her crop top, turned her about, experimented with putting her hair up and down.

“We need everyone in the Capitol to want her,” he said. “I’m sorry, Myron. We need to completely rehaul this design.”

“There’s no time,” said Myron. “Even if we did have a more suitable idea.”

As her mentor turned his full gaze on the stylist, Annie could see Myron’s defensive expression melt. Like all beautiful people, there was something extraordinarily powerful about Finnick’s face. And his good looks were the most potent kind, because she was sure he knew what the effect they had on everyone else.

“If it was any other stylist, I wouldn’t ask, because yes, they wouldn’t be able to deliver. But I remember your team the year before last. You put together a new outfit for your tribute in – was it thirteen hours? After you found out that Two looked almost identical.”

“Fifteen hours,” said Myron. “But really, that was an emergency. I can’t just...”

“When you tell your team, you can blame it on me.”

Myron couldn’t say no. No one could, not to Finnick’s glorious, sea-coloured eyes.

Finnick undid Annie’s hair, which was bunched on the top of her head like a pineapple. “Myron, have you ever been inside the President’s mansion?”

“I have had that honour, yes.”

“There’s this painting in one of the reception areas, a very old one. It shows a lady stepping out of the sea, her hair half-undone, surrounded by attendants in flowing robes. She’s not just a girl, she’s like a dream. That’s what we want for Annie.”

“But that woman’s naked!” Myron’s voice shot up an octave.

“Well, we’ll take a few liberties. If we wrap some material around her hips...”

“And her top half?”

“Nothing.”

“Finnick!” Annie squeaked.

She knew he was trying to keep her alive, but the opening ceremony was shown across the whole of Panem. Everyone would see it. She wasn’t sure she wanted to live after being filmed like that.

“You know what happened to Eight the year that boy’s package slipped out of his loincloth,” said Myron. “Both the stylists lost their jobs – and they haven’t worked since. Sexy is one thing, but technically naked is something else.”

“There’s no way that’s going to happen.” Finnick swept her hair forwards so that it hung over her breasts. “See? Annie’s natural charms are all we’ll need.”


	4. Reinvention

Annie walked into the bottom level of the Remake Centre, her prep team trailing behind her. If she managed to get through the parade without exposing something indecent, she’d count it a success. When she had seen the outfit Myron had made for her, she had almost refused to put it on. Only the fact that it was Finnick’s idea stopped her from arguing.

She was essentially wearing a tiny bikini bottom, draped with strands threaded with shells, pearls, coral and other treasures. The ropes of flotsam trailed down over her thighs and got caught in _everything._ Nothing on top, of course, except tiny pieces of gel which kept her hair stuck to her breasts. If anything went wrong, Annie knew that she, Finnick, Myron and the whole prep team would be in trouble. The Games were considered family entertainment in the Capitol – which meant that they would happily show tributes stabbing, beheading or strangling each other, but actual nudity was _not_ permitted.

However, Annie did have to admit that the prep team had turned her hair into a masterpiece. They had been working on it for over an hour, almost burning her several times with hot rollers. Now her hair spilled down her body in perfect, soft waves, woven with shells, dried starfish and pearls. Her eyes were ringed with metallic grey-green make-up which was both terrifying and beautiful.

She spotted Finnick waiting by the chariot with Peggy.

“Annie,” Finnick nodded at her, then held her at arm’s length to examine the costume. His eyes travelled rapidly, taking in every detail of Myron’s creation.

“Is it ok?” she asked.

Finnick nodded. “This will get you sponsors in the Capitol.”

Glynn joined them. He looked as awkward as she felt, which was a bit comforting. His chest was burnished and waxed bare, his hair sleek, and he was wearing tight shorts jangling with ropes of shells and coral to match Annie. She noticed that he was carrying a trident, the weapon which had won Finnick the Games and made him a legend. The stylists turned District 4’s male tribute into a copy of Finnick every year. Who didn’t want to be like the most desirable victor in the history of the Games?

“A bit cold isn’t it?” Annie smiled at Glynn, trying to lighten the mood.

Glynn scowled. “This is the most degrading, pointless thing I’ve ever done.”

Finnick raised his eyebrows at Glynn, then turned to Annie. “Can I have a word?”

Annie heard Glynn snort irritably as Finnick pulled her to one side.

“Have you been practicing?” Finnick asked.

He was referring to their previous session, to what he had jokingly called ‘seduction skills’. This mostly involved Finnick telling her to ‘pout’, ‘bat your eyelashes’ and ‘lean forwards’ while Annie diligently tried to obey.

“Yes,” Annie said, trying to give him a confident smile.

The girl from District 1 threw them a snooty glance as she passed. She was wearing head to toe gold and was sprayed with something metallic so she looked like a walking statue.

“So you aren’t bothering with clothes, then?” she sneered, amused.

Annie froze, the mockery worse than a sharp slap to the face. It was like being back at school, her classmates whispering about how awkward she was. Ugly graffiti on the walls of the bathroom, secret codes she didn’t understand... Annie bit her bottom lip to stop it from trembling.

“Ignore her. She wants to intimidate you because she’s jealous,” said Finnick.

Hardly. The tall, shimmering tribute worried that a girl in a few sea shells was going to upstage her?

They were interrupted by Glynn. “What are you talking about?”

“I was telling Annie to try to seduce the audience.”

Glynn huffed, sounding almost like a horse. Annie fought back laughter.

“You know, it would be great if you’d share your wisdom with me as well,” said Glynn sarcastically.

“I thought this was all pointless and degrading?” said Finnick, so earnestly that Annie knew he was trying to goad Glynn.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be if you hadn’t forced us to wear these stupid outfits. No one is going to take us seriously.”

The dark-haired boy refused to back down. Instead, he was squaring up to Finnick like he was trying to decide whether it was worth throwing a punch. Annie’s mentor didn’t look intimidated. Instead, he almost seemed to enjoy it.

“Go on then,” Finnick sneered. “Think having a crack at me will make you feel better?”

Other tributes and prep teams were staring at them. The boy from Seven sniggered.

“Well, that’s District 4 all over, isn’t it?” he said to his mentor. “They always dress like hookers.”

Annie turned to the chariot so she wouldn’t be tempted to retaliate. She wasn’t going to listen while her home, the place where she had lived all her life and would probably never see again, was criticised by some tree hugger. But instead of shrugging it off, Glynn dived forwards, shoving Annie out of the way as he headed in the direction of the boy from Seven.

“Easy,” said Peggy, blocking his path.

“Well, tell him to stop mouthing off, then!”

At that moment, Panem’s national anthem began to play, putting a stop to the hostilities. The tribute parade was about to begin. This cued a frenzy of activity, as stylists piled their charges into chariots and made final tweaks to their hair.

As Annie dashed forwards to take her place, one of her sandals slipped off her foot. She twisted and tried to grab it, but someone else had already picked it up. It was the girl from District 9.

They stared at each other apprehensively. The girl was very pretty, with tanned skin and dusky red curls. But what held Annie’s attention was how stringy and small the girl’s body was. She had never seen anyone with such brittle arms, except perhaps some of the inhabitants of the beach shanties in District 4.

The girl shyly held out the sandal. Annie hesitated, and for a moment all the girls did was stare at each other. Then Annie carefully took it from her, moving cautiously so she didn’t look at all threatening to the other girl.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

The girl from Nine smiled tentatively.

Annie rushed back to District 4’s team, jamming the sandal onto her foot. Why had she let herself get distracted? The towering doors which led out onto the Capitol streets were already starting to open.

“Come on you,” Finnick smiled, reaching out his arms to her.

He grabbed her by the waist and hauled her easily into the chariot. Annie flushed. She tried to pull out of his hands before he could see the effect he had on her. But something tugged on her hip. Annie looked down. One of the strands of seashells on her ridiculous costume was tangled in Finnick’s belt.

“Hold on,” he said. Her skin crawled with embarrassment as Finnick unhooked himself, grinning. “Trying to take me with you, Annie Cresta?”

“No, I...” Annie whispered, her throat tight.

The chariot lurched into motion, the snowy horses so well-trained they didn’t need guidance. Finnick squeezed Annie’s hand. He paced alongside to keep up with her as they moved towards the entrance.

“Don’t let them look at anyone but you,” he said.

The horses gathered speed, leaving Finnick behind. It was too noisy to shout a reply, even if Annie could think of one.

Before Annie could switch her thoughts to the parade, the chariot had carried her and Glynn out of the Remake Centre. They were now in the streets of the Capitol, greeted by an overwhelming, roaring cheer that was worse than any thunderstorm. As was tradition, the tributes paraded through the streets of the city, culminating at the President’s mansion. The event was televised for the whole of Panem, and the streets were crowded with garish Capitol citizens, who pushed at the barriers, straining for a better look.

 _Hungry to see us before we start hacking each other to pieces,_ Annie thought.

She pushed the traitorous idea away. Finnick had told her to smile. Pretend that each and every person in the audience was someone special to her.

Ignoring the growing pit of discomfort in her stomach, Annie waved at the crowd. Who at home was watching this? Please not her mother. No one should have to see their child demeaning themselves like this, and in front of the people who thought murder was a form of entertainment. Annie tried to adjust her costume subtly, which wasn’t easy considering all the eyes on her. The bikini rubbed in all the wrong places. She then blew a few kisses to the crowd.

The main sources of light here were the flaming torches spaced at regular intervals along the roads. They were so bright that it was difficult to pick out faces in the crowd. Annie strained, struggling to make eye contact which Finnick had told her was vital. He said it let the audience imagine that you were doing everything for them personally. But in order to do that, people had to be looking at you in the first place. And the audience weren’t. Their heads were all blown towards the chariots which had already passed.

“What’s going on?” Annie asked Glynn, still waving mechanically.

“District 1. Their costumes are better than ours. And they’re not making a pathetic attempt to be sexy.”

The crowd’s roar shaped into names: Calpurnia and Jasper. The glittering, golden tributes from District 1. Everyone loved them, would sponsor them – not Annie and Glynn.

Tears pricked Annie’s eyes, but she refused to start crying on television.

Glynn continued, “If Finnick Odair wasn’t so obsessed –”

“Finnick’s doing the best he can,” snapped Annie, then continued to wave.

The tribute parade dragged on and on. Annie had never realised how exhausting pretending to be happy could be. They had to be close to the president’s mansion by now...

“District 4!” cheered a woman in the crowd, tossing a rose in Annie’s direction.

The flower fell short, catching a torch on its descent.

“Glynn –” Annie squeaked.

The flaming rose dropped to the ground just in front of their chariot. The horses reared, terrified. Everything lurched backwards, and Annie threw her arms out, desperate to grab onto something solid.

The ground smashed into her back, knocking the breath out of her body. She heard the crowds crying out in dismay, which told her the fall must have been bad. She couldn’t feel anything. Annie tried to sit up, and found she could manage it, although the movement made her head throb uncomfortably. She saw that the rose’s fire was spreading to some confetti scattered on the floor. One of the horses from her chariot had broken free and, scared by the flames, was pawing the ground.

“Come on!” said Glynn. He held out his hand to her, but didn’t leave the chariot.

Annie got to her feet, back aching. But instead of going to the chariot, she went towards the frightened horse. As she approached, it neighed nervously and ducked backwards. Perhaps this was a bad idea. But Annie couldn’t just watch the poor animal when it was obviously so frightened. She edged closer, and the horse made a move to rear up. Annie braced herself to duck, trying to keep eye contact.

“It’s alright...” she said as soothingly as she could. “You’re not the only one that’s scared.”

Cautiously, Annie reached out and touched the horse’s velvety nose. It didn’t jerk away or try to bite her, which was something.

Two attendants were already on the street, dousing the fire with a strange white mist.

“Come on, look at me,” Annie said to the horse, guiding its head away from the fire.

Once the flames had been safely extinguished, she coaxed the skittish horse back to District 4’s chariot.

“I don’t know how to reattatch the harness,” said Annie, looking about an attendant.

“Just leave the horse and get in,” Glynn snapped.

Annie noticed for the first time that people were cheering again. Not just that – they were applauding and stamping their feet _._ They liked her.

She wasn’t going to do what Glynn told her to. Instead, she hopped onto the chariot, but only as a foot up to help her onto the horse’s back. There was one terrifying moment when she was sure that she would slide off, head first, but then she was upright and in the correct position, with one leg on either side of the animal’s flank.

Glynn gaped at her.

“Carry on,” Annie smiled, and they continued the procession.

She tried to hold herself gracefully as she rode, but her nervous legs clenched the horse’s back tight. She had ridden once or twice in District 4, but they had been young ponies, not this gigantic creature. Luckily, the horse seemed calm enough when it wasn’t startled by fire, and paced the route without needing much prompting from her. Annie blew kisses to the crowd as she went. It took a while for her to realise that the word they were cheering was her name. It sounded distorted in their mouths.

As they arrived at the president’s mansion, a sudden pang of horror shot through Annie’s stomach. Her costume. It was so revealing already, part of it must have been dislodged somewhere along the way. She was probably giving the whole of Panem an excellent view of a part of her which shouldn’t be seen. As subtly as she could, she checked it over with her hands. Luckily, it all still seemed to be in place – even her hair was still attached to the gel over her breasts. Perhaps Myron knew what he was doing after all.

More than a little bit relieved, Annie sat through President Snow’s speech without taking in a word. Then she encouraged the horse to follow District 3’s chariot into the Training Centre and the clamour of the audience died away at last. Any relief Annie felt disappeared as soon as the silence was infected by the snide whispers from other tributes.

Annie was beginning to see how ridiculous she must look, even by the wild standards of the tribute parade. She was, after all, mostly naked and riding bareback on a huge white horse. She needed to get down so she was less exposed, but the ground was very far away. There was no way she could just slide off, so she was stuck until someone helped her down. Annie tried to ignore golden-haired Calpurnia who was laughing coldly with her district partner, Jasper.

“Annie!” called Finnick, striding through the gathering of tributes.

She smiled at him weakly. “I’m sorry...”

“They’ve been going wild over you,” he said, eyes bright. “The commentators couldn’t talk about anything else.”

“Oh...” Annie flushed, not sure what to say.

“Come on,” Finnick held out his arms. “Let’s get you back on the ground.”

She slid awkwardly off the horse, knocking into Finnick rather than dropping effortlessly into his arms. Somehow, he managed to grab hold of her, crushing her securely against his chest. She hoped he didn’t notice how sweaty she was. Annie had been touched more in the past two days than in the rest of her life – prodded and poked by her prep team, maneuverer about by her stylist. But Finnick’s secure grip felt like real human contact. It felt like home.

Myron handed Finnick a silk robe, which he threw around Annie’s shoulders. At last. She had forgotten what it felt like to wear proper clothes.

“Arm out,” he said, slipping her limbs into the sleeves and then knotting the robe at her waist. “Perfect.”

“I should have got back into the chariot,” said Annie. “I’m sorry – it’s not what tributes are supposed to do... Am I going to be in trouble?”

“Hardly. That was the most sensational chariot ride in the history of the Games. Everyone loves animals and you – the way you calmed that horse, it was almost mythic. Even I was touched, and you know I keep my heart tightly locked away,” Finnick smiled wryly.

“At least I didn’t fall off,” she said, but she couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit pleased.

Finnick put his arm around her and steered her towards the lift. Annie hoped he couldn’t tell that he was making her heart skip erratically. Being with him was bringing back all the longing that he’d inspired when she was younger. Annie thought she’d outgrown those immature but painful emotions, but they seemed to be creeping back like a long-dormant disease. And right now she couldn’t afford to be distracted.

“Trust me, everyone will be talking about you after tonight,” said Finnick.

The door opened, and Glynn shoved past them into the lift. His expression was stormy, and he refused to look any of them in the eye. Annie knew that if she had made herself friends in the Capitol tonight, she had also created enemies among the other tributes.


	5. Apolitical

“President Snow is waiting,” said the butler, holding open the mahogany door.

Finnick shoved his hands in his pockets and carried on examining the painting on the wall. It must be ancient, from a time well before this country was called Panem. The scene showed a woman who was either turning into a tree or a tree that was turning into a woman, Finnick wasn’t sure which. Her torso was wooden, but her arms were flesh, reaching out imploringly to a man who lunged away from her.

“What does this all mean, do you think?” asked Finnick, nodding at the painting.

He ran his hand over the gilt frame, hoping it was valuable and his touch was ruining it.

“Mr Odair – the President?”

He couldn’t put it off any longer. Finnick turned and did his best to saunter into Snow’s office. He wanted to look politely bored, without a hint of how nervous the President’s mansion always made him. Every room was heavy with unimaginable luxury: polished wood, finely carved marble and dull gold, showing off how ancient it was. This was no place for a boy who had grown up on his father’s fishing boat, battling rain and gutting trout.

Though Finnick had to remember that Snow had changed him. He was one of the Capitol’s creatures now, especially as he had just been ‘fixed up’ on the President’s orders. Every year when he arrived here, an army of beauticians trimmed and styled his hair, waxed his chest and polished his skin. Basically, they made sure that he matched the Capitol’s image of him before he was unleashed into the city. Finnick thought of them as his prep team, except that there were no more Hunger Games. He wasn’t doing anything as interesting as fighting.

“Good evening,” said Finnick.

After a pause, Snow looked up from his desk. “So Mr Odair, you have returned.”

“Yes,” Finnick said blankly. “Do you have my list?”

Finnick was not going to chat. Snow only spoke to him to enjoy the power that he held over the former tribute. The president was a busy man, he could easily just send his lackeys to deliver the list, but he wanted to celebrate the fact that he could make Finnick dance to any tune he wanted.

Snow gave him a side of thick, embossed paper with four names on it. Finnick glanced over them quickly, but he was no longer curious about who he was expected to service. If anything, it was funny to him that people actually paid exorbitant amounts of money for the privilege. Nothing they asked him to do could surprise him any more. He had seen – and done – everything: women, men, wrinkled, young, from behind, on top, in beds, hot tubs, hotel rooms, sober, high – once even with one woman’s husband watching as they went at it. Finnick found that it made almost no difference to his routine.

“Oh, and I promised a friend of mine that you’d help with his advertising campaign,” said Snow. “It’s for bottled water – very appropriate.”

“I will have to mentor my tribute as well...”

“You’ll find the time, I’m sure. Yes, Annie Cresta... Who would have thought she had such... star power?”

“Annie’s going to win,” Finnick said, more emphatically than he’d intended.

This was the first time he’d said that with any kind of conviction. Admittedly, she hadn’t seemed like a promising candidate at first, but the parade changed everything. She had been resourceful enough to turn a potential disaster into a chance to shine – and how she had shone.

“She’s fortunate to have Finnick Odair as her mentor. How lucky that you decided to come to the Capitol this year after all.”

Finnick felt his stomach turn to water, but before he could say anything, Snow pressed his buzzer.

“Show Mr Odair out, please,” he said to the butler.

As Finnick left the mansion, he turned the question over in his mind: what if Annie’s name being called hadn’t been an accident? Had Snow ordered it after Finnick refused to be a mentor as a way of forcing him back to the Capitol? It was true that Annie was only tenuously linked to him, his godmother’s only child, but who else could Snow have picked? He had no siblings, and his friends from school were too old to compete. There was no one else but Annie.

Would Snow really do that? It wasn’t that Finnick doubted that he was capable of it – he knew more than anyone how ruthless the president could be. But was Finnick _really_ such a valuable asset that Snow would go to all this hassle?

Finnick forced himself to keep walking. If it was true, it now meant there were three reasons he had to ensure that she won the Games. First, because he had promised her mother. Second, because it was his fault her name had been drawn. And last, because he couldn’t stomach the idea of Annie joining the long list of tributes from District 4 that he hadn’t been able to save.

* * *

“Maximus says he won’t be joining us. Apparently, he’s come down with something,” said Peggy, shutting the door.

“I assume that’s code for ‘hung over’?” said Finnick. “Well, at least we know it’s not contagious.”

A fleeting smile played on Annie’s mouth. She was looking pale and tense this morning, but he felt there was a quiet determination in her face he hadn’t seen before. Perhaps she’d been encouraged by her spectacular performance at the tribute parade.

Weirdly, Finnick himself felt almost fine this morning. Usually, a visit to the President’s mansion left him on edge with a strange, sick feeling pooling at the bottom of his stomach. But today he had eaten two egg white omelettes for breakfast, so he couldn’t be that bad. Maybe it was just the numbing effect of routine. Do anything year after year for long enough, and it started to become normal. Even this.

As Peggy crossed the room, she glanced meaningfully at Glynn, who was slumped in his chair looking like a ray of sunshine as usual. “Before we begin, Glynn has something he’d like to say.”

Glynn leant forwards and cleared his throat.

“Sorry – about the tribute parade. When I... sorry,” he said, unable to maintain eye contact. “It won’t happen again.”

Although it wasn’t exactly a memorable apology, it at least got the message across. Glynn must be in absolute agony, having to say sorry to someone he so clearly despised. Finnick didn’t have the energy or the heart to stretch out this moment any longer.

“It’s fine. The parade is a stressful night.”

Peggy sat down, clearly thinking that they’d wasted enough time on social niceties. “So. Training. Finnick, do you want to start us off?”

Finnick stole a quick glance at Annie, whose eyes were fixed on his face attentively. All her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and she was almost unrecognisable without those flowing mermaid locks.

“The decisions about alliances between the tributes will be made over the next three days. You have to show the tributes from One and Two how you’ll help them in the Games. No one wants to carry dead weight.”

“I’m going off on my own. Less politics,” said Glynn. Then he seemed to remember that he wasn’t supposed to be behaving like an unlikable toad, and quickly spoke again with forced politeness. “But thank you for the advice.”

Finnick wanted to lob porridge at his head. As if he cared what Glynn decided to do.

“Fine. That’s a decision that you can make along with your mentor,” he shrugged.

“Glynn will be allying himself with the rest of the group,” said Peggy firmly.

The boy’s scowl intensified. “I-”

“If you go off by yourself, you’ll be targeted by the pack during the bloodbath. You’re from one of the most popular and skilled Districts. They’re not going to overlook you like some weakling from Eleven or Twelve.” Finnick said, feeling like he should back Peggy up. Anyway, it was good for Annie to hear it as well.

Glynn didn’t respond, so Finnick assumed the message had been received.

“You’ll need to show off your assets,” he continued.

He regretted his choice of words as soon as he spoke. Glynn’s sullen face turned into a sneer. Thankfully, Peggy pressed on.

“Glynn, you’ll need to emphasize your strength. Did you take any combat classes while you were at school?”

Glynn nodded. Combat classes were optional in their District, and most children took them much less seriously than One or Two. The people of Four weren’t bloodthirsty dogs snapping for the Capitol’s crumbs.

“What about you, Annie?” asked Peggy.

Annie shook her head, saying nothing.

Finnick wished he could kick his fellow mentor under the table. Of course Annie hadn’t taken combat classes, that was obvious. Now she would look weak in front of Glynn. Finnick had to do something.

“Have a go with the spears. That’s usually where our District excels.”

“Yes, but I’ve never even gone out on a fishing boat. So I don’t-”

“That doesn’t matter. I’m sure you’ve seen enough to pick up something. Anyway, it’s not all about brawn. You should show off how agile and quick you are.”

“Both of you need to find the right weapons, the ones you’ll get hold of at the Cornucopia,” Peggy continued.

“Ok,” murmured Annie.

“And this evening we’ll start preparing you for the interviews,” said Finnick. “Myron’s making exquisite costumes for you as we speak.”

Glynn rolled his eyes. Finnick pretended that he hadn’t seen.

“I’m not wearing anything that looks like underwear,” said Glynn.

“You’ll wear whatever your stylist puts you in,” said Finnick.

“The Hunger Games isn’t a beauty pageant. We should be talking about strategies.”

“Getting sponsored is a strategy,” snapped Finnick. He was bored by Glynn’s attitude. “Do you want medicine, water, equipment? I’m pretty sure those are the difference between death and victory most years.”

“We’ll get sponsors by showing them we can fight. But I guess a pretty Capitol playboy wouldn’t know anything about that,” mocked Glynn.

Finnick was on his feet. Glynn mirrored him.

“I killed eight tributes during the Games,” said Finnick.

“With a trident sent by your fans in the Capitol.” Glynn moved forwards so the two of them were unmistakably sizing each other up. “You would never have won if you weren’t good to look at.”

“Sit down,” said Peggy sharply. Finnick wasn’t sure if she was talking to one or both of them.

They continued to glare each other. Finnick knew Glynn was just trying to be difficult, but he still wanted to punch him. He really wasn’t cut out to be a mentor.

“I was fourteen. The youngest victor in the history of the Games,” he said, his voice lowering to a growl. “There were boys in my year like you. Stronger than average, so they thought they were a sure thing and didn’t work hard in the interviews or have a plan beyond stabbing anyone who crossed their path. And I took them all down. So you can roll your eyes all you like, but if you actually have your head screwed on you’ll listen and do what we tell you. ”

Finnick waited. He half-hoped that Glynn would take a shot at him. That would at least give him the excuse of self-defence. But instead Glynn just sat back down, looking genuinely unnerved.

“Do either of you have any questions?” said Finnick.

* * *

As Annie looked around the main hall, the true gravity of her situation struck her for the first time. If she wanted to live, then every single other tribute here would have to die. There were so many of them... the boy from Eight was tall and well-muscled, and Calpurnia looked like she could kill someone with just her steely glare. And then there were the smaller or younger tributes, who might be just as deadly even though they weren’t as obviously strong. Any of them could be a threat.

Annie was too nervous to try out one of the combat skills, worried that she’d end up failing miserably and embarrass herself in front of everyone. Instead, she went to the snares station and tried to stay quietly out of everyone’s way. Luckily, thanks to years of helping her mother weave fishing nets, Annie was handy with her hands. She could fashion traps and snares almost faster than the attendants could teach her.

While Annie was working, she saw Calpurnia and Jasper practicing with spears. They were both laughing with each other, the Capitol attendants trying to stop them from swinging them about too wildly. Neither of them looked scared, or even slightly tense. They acted as though they were on holiday, as if this whole trip was a huge adventure.

While the two tributes from District 1 were joking with each other, a girl came over to Annie’s station.

“Is it OK if I...?” she didn’t finish her sentence, but she gestured to the table of snares.

It was the girl from Nine, the one who gave Annie back her sandal at the tribute parade. Her russet curls were plastered back in tight plaits against her scalp, and now she was up close Annie could see that she had soft freckles scattered over her face and neck like drops of ink.

“Of course. Sorry. I’m pretty sure we’re allowed to use it at the same time,” said Annie.

She bent her head over the snare she was putting together. The two of them sat in a tense silence as they both worked on their own projects. Annie saw that the girl was struggling with a fiddly knot.

“Um – it helps if you pull it through from the back instead.”

The girl looked at her questioningly, her eyes large and velvety brown.

Annie impulsively leaned forwards and showed her. “See – if you loop it in through there – it’s easier.”

Her hand accidentally brushed against the girl’s arm. She quickly withdrew it.

“Sorry,” she said.

“Thanks,” the girl admired Annie’s handiwork. “You’re good at this. I guess they taught you that in Career school?”

“No,” said Annie quickly. “No, it’s just my mother weaves fishing nets for a living, so I’ve picked a few things up. I’m Annie by the way.”

“Sage.”

Annie immediately wished she hadn’t introduced herself. Being on first name terms with her felt too strange. But Sage carried on speaking as she tried unsuccessful to replicate another knot.

“Maybe snares aren’t going to be my speciality in the arena.”

“It takes a bit of practice.”

“But we don’t have the time here. I wish my District trained us like yours do. The only thing I know is how to drive a combine harvester, and I don’t think there’ll be one of those in the arena.”

Annie laughed without meaning to. She quickly looked down to break eye contact with Sage. This girl was becoming too real, too much like a friend. Not someone who she’d be able to kill. She had to keep her at a distance.

Annie got up, “I think I’m finished with mine. Good luck.”

She quickly hurried away, and didn’t look back to see how Sage responded. Annie had to do something else to look busy. She wanted to try to edible plants memory test, but she remembered what Finnick had told her. That this time in the Training Centre was about impressing the other Careers and build alliances.

Annie forced herself to go over to the spears station, where Calpurnia and Jasper were talking together with the girl from District 2. All three of them fell silent and looked at her as she approached.

“Hi,” she said.

Jasper gave a half-smile, but Calpurnia just looked at her. None of them said anything.

“Just thought I’d have a go...” said Annie, trying to fill the silence.

Annie grabbed one of the spears, which was heavier than it looked. She could feel the three Career tributes watching her, even as they pretended to discuss which activity to practice next.

The Capitol attendant gave her instructions about how to stand so that she could throw properly. Annie tried to copy the stance awkwardly, but her fingers were nervous and when she threw it, the spear ended up falling up short, a good couple of feet from the targets.

She heard a chorus of sniggers from behind her.

Jasper came back up to the platform to return his spear. He was trying hard to keep a straight face as he spoke to Annie, “Have fun.”

He and the other two Career girls went off to the sword fighting station.

Annie felt her cheeks burn. She looked down quickly, wishing that her hair was loose so she could hide behind it. They thought she was weak, and that was dangerous. Should she grab another spear? But she knew she’d never be able to use this kind of weapon to change their minds. Annie just didn’t have the upper body strength needed to handle these spears.

She was useless, and she’d basically just shown everyone that. Now not only would Calpurnia’s gang refuse her as an ally, but she’d be one of the first they would target in the arena because they thought she was weak. She was so stupid. Stupid and useless. She might as well be dead already.


	6. Learning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up, there's some sexual content in this chapter. Let's just say it looks at the realities of Finnick's responsibilities in the Capitol, so be warned...  
> Emily xox

All Annie wanted to do was hide for the rest of the afternoon until training was over. Her eyes went to the camouflage station, where the two tributes from District 12 were learning to disguise themselves with mud. Annie could go there, and try to hope they would all forget about her. Except she knew that wasn’t going to happen. Her only chance of survival was to prove she was a contender.

Annie looked at the different weapons on offer. She had to find something which would suit her strengths... Annie remembered at school that she had always been asked to bowl when they played softball in sports lessons. There must be some way of using the fact that she had decent enough aim. After considering all her options, she went to the knife-throwing station, hoping it was the right choice. There was no going back after this. If she failed, Calpurnia’s gang would _never_ accept her.

The first two throws weren’t bad – they hit the targets but not in the places Annie had been aiming for. It wasn’t good enough to impress the Careers. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Jasper was watching her. He had just finished a mock-fight against a Capitol attendant and was taking a moment at the side of the room. This was her chance.

Annie took up two more knives, and planted her feet back in position. She looked at the board in front of her, at the person-shaped targets. She could do this.

Ignoring the buzz of nerves in her ears, Annie breathed in and out...raised her arm...and threw the first knife. It took a moment to spot where it had landed – right in the centre of the chest, on a bullseye. Annie forced herself not to smile, or turn around and see whether Jasper was still watching. She couldn’t break her concentration now. She threw the second knife – which landed on the target’s head, slightly below the bullseye – and the third – which would have struck right between the target’s eyes if it were a person.

She wasn’t just a winsome girl on a horse any more.

Annie stole a quick glance at the Careers. Jasper was still watching her and looked intrigued, and Calpurnia was now standing by him. It was impossible to tell if she was impressed or not. At least she wasn’t laughing.

“Very good,” said the attendant, retrieving Annie’s knives. “Do you want me to show you the places you should be targeting for maximum chance at fatalities?”

Annie swallowed. If she allowed herself to hesitate, she would look weak.

“Yes please,” she said, then listened to the descriptions of severed arteries without flinching.

At lunchtime, Annie grabbed some fish soup and a bread roll. The tributes were all sitting at tables, which were arranged like the canteen in Annie’s school. Most sat by themselves, chewing nervously, but on one table a loud, boisterous group were gathered – the Careers. Annie knew from Finnick that the canteen was where alliances were forged. She had to get in with them here.

Annie approached the pack with caution. All of them stopped speaking as she walked over. Calpurnia was sitting with Jasper and the girl from Two, as Annie had expected, but there was another person by her side. Glynn. How had he managed to forge an alliance with them so quickly? He hadn’t even been planning to join the Careers this morning.

“Is anyone sitting there?” Annie asked, indicating a chair that was obviously empty. She hoped her knife show earlier had been enough to earn her place there.

Silence. No one seemed to want to commit either way. Annie thought that Glynn could at least show some District solidarity and vouch for her. But he just looked at his food.

At last Calpurnia spoke. “You can sit down, if you want.”

She didn’t sound all that enthusiastic, but Annie didn’t care. She was in.

Annie perched on the chair. The chatter continued, and she tried to look like she was interested in what was being said. They were discussing the different types of weapons they’d been trying out this morning. The conversation was strangely bland because no one would admit that there was anything they weren’t good at.

“The clubs have good impact. Much better than the ones we used back home,” said Calpurnia. “Jasper, did you get to the archery station in the end?”

“Yeah. The attendant was so stupid – I think I taught him something.”

Jasper laughed, so Annie copied him to look like she was part of the group.

“I like having an archer on our team,” said Calpurnia.

“Hopefully the arena will have some animals we can hunt,” said Annie, feeling like she should contribute something.

“There’ll be plenty of food at the cornucopia,” said Glynn.

His dismissiveness riled Annie.

“What about the year when it got eaten by those weird muttations?” she asked.

“We’ll guard it, obviously,” said the girl from Two, giving Annie a patronising smile.

Annie wished she could remember her name. She would have to look it up tonight.

Calpurnia, who had finished her food, stood up. The others copied her. Annie hastily got to her feet as well, grabbing the last bit of her bread roll. Now she was in with the group, she had to make sure she kept up with them.

* * *

“You’re killing me.”

“Now Finnick,” said Justus. “Don’t be naughty.”

They were on the balcony, the only place at this boozy Capitol party where you could hear yourself talk over the music.

“Just a hint...?” Finnick fixed this year’s head Gamemaker with his most appealing expression – arrogance with a hint of vulnerability. It was a look that always seemed to make the Capitol swoon. He could tell it was having an effect on Justus, who stared at him like a dolphin in an aquarium.

“It will spoil the surprise.”

Finnick edged closer to him. “But I’ve been waiting a whole year. Are you really going to be that heartless?”

“It would cost me my job,” he said, his voice not inviting arguments.

Finnick nodded, chastised. He needed to change tactics. “Do you have any advice? Anything to help me prepare my tribute? I’ve lost four in a row now, it’s getting a bit embarrassing.”

Justus sighed. “You really are incorrigible...”

The head Gamemaker gestured for him to lean in even closer. Finnick obliged, almost suffocating in the cloud of noxious, sweet cologne. It smelled like rotting flowers, and probably cost more than many people in District 4 would make in a year.

“Make sure she learns how to light fires and forage for food. This year’s arena isn’t going to be a hospitable environment. But I never told you that...”

Finnick smiled at Justus and placed a finger on his lips, indicating that the Gamemaker’s secret was safe with him.

“Let’s drink to your creativity,” Finnick smiled, raising his glass. “I knew when you were appointed that you’d bring true creativity back to the Games.”

What did Justus really mean? Finnick had mental flashes of a ghostly pale Annie in a barren wasteland, freezing on a mountainside or dying of thirst in a desert. They needed to come up with a plan to help her survive the hostile environment. But that would have to happen later. Finnick gave Justus a small mock bow, then made up some friend to give him an excuse to leave. He had a feeling Justus was going to start pawing him if he didn’t make a swift exit. Inside the ballroom, Finnick surveyed the mingling guests. This was his hunting ground, and there was someone here he had to find before the end of the night.

The party was circus-themed, which meant flashing lights, servers in striped outfits and acrobats dangling from the ceiling on silken ropes. As Finnick searched for his target, a drunken man slid his hand down Finnick’s back and onto his ass. Finnick hastily edged forwards through the crowd, trying to put as many people as possible between himself and that drunk. He really hoped that tonight wasn’t going to turn into one of _those_ parties. Finnick was not in the mood to watch an orgy.

“Finnick!” Maximus grabbed his hand, yanking him closer. “Where did you disappear off to?”

They could barely make themselves heard over the nightmarishly loud music, which seemed to tremble and lurch inside their ears.

“I’m looking for someone – Metella? Do you know her?”

“Of course! She’s over by the punch bowl. I can introduce you-”

“No need,” lied Finnick quickly. “She’s an old friend.”

He thought Maximus looked a little offended by the brush off. Well, Finnick would apologise tomorrow. He didn’t need another enemy in the Capitol. But tonight Finnick had business which couldn’t wait. He picked up two glasses of white wine and approached the woman Maximus had pointed out. She was younger than a lot of his patrons, probably in her mid-thirties, with a blood orange gown and shimmering gold hair which fell halfway down her back. Finnick was ready with an opening he often used on patrons.

“Do you mind my asking what the most beautiful woman in the room is doing standing over here?” he said.

Metella smiled, “You’re a bit forward aren’t you, young man?”

He swept her with an intense glance. “My apologies. Please have a drink to make up for my rudeness. My name is Finnick Odair.”

“I know,” she said.

Soon he had her on the dancefloor, both of them grinding up against each other, hands everywhere. Finnick wasn’t really that great at dancing, but he’d learned that if you moved with enough confidence, people would just assume you were good. It always amused Finnick to see what he could get away with at Capitol parties. The answer was almost everything.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked her huskily.

“We need to go to a hotel. My husband’s home.”

Finnick smiled. “That would be perfect.”

She took him to a lavish suite, and ordered champagne and a three course meal. Finnick lounged on the floor, asking her about her job, her life, her dreams. He told her nothing about himself. She wasn’t interested.

Finnick wished he could skip through this part, complete the act itself and then leave. He had to work on Annie’s strategy. But that was the worst thing about the female patrons. It wasn’t enough to sleep with them – they expected to be seduced. Typically his male patrons didn’t expect as much preamble.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

Finnick gave her a long, lingering glance. “Starving.”

Metella flushed and tittered nervously. He couldn’t believe her reaction. Surely she must know it was all a performance? After all, she was the one who paid Snow for the privilege of being lied to.

She ripped a leg off the chicken. Finnick reached out to take it, but Metella motioned his hands away and dangled the leg above his head. Great. Finnick smiled and took a bite while keeping eye contact, which he thought was pretty impressive. Snow’s tutors had taught him that there was nothing more erotic than eye contact.

Metella leant back and took another sip of champagne. “I want to see you. All of you.”

Finnick smiled, as if stripping for a total stranger was his idea of a good time.

“Only because it’s you,” he lied.

Hopefully his patrons would never gather together and compare notes, or they’d realise that he used the same lines on all of them.

Finnick turned up the music, then stood in the centre of the room. Metella was giggling in anticipation. Her voice was strangely girlish, and would have felt more appropriate coming from a fourteen-year-old kid. How did this woman have enough political power that even Snow wanted to win her favour? The country really was doomed.

He pulled off his belt first, then took off his jacket and his tie. Metella was enthralled, watching as closely as if something actually important was going on. Finnick undid his shirt slowly. After all, anticipation was everything. As he slipped it off his shoulders, he tensed his stomach muscles, because apparently that made them look more defined. Then he slid his hand down his stomach and took off his trousers, casting half-shy, half-amused looks as if he _couldn’t believe he was actually doing this_ but was enjoying it anyway. Finally, he removed his underwear and then just stood there and waited.

Metella made a motion with her finger, indicating that Finnick should turn around. He obeyed as slowly as he could without making it awkward.

“Wow,” Metella’s greedy gaze travelled all over his body. “You really are toned _all over._ ”

Finnick smiled, as if he were flattered. Metella took up the dessert, which was a sickly mess of caramel and sponge. She walked over to Finnick.

“Get down on the floor then.”

Finnick noticed, not for the first time with one of his patrons, that the thing she seemed to luxuriate in most was ordering him about. Perhaps that was the appeal, which meant that it didn’t matter if they both knew this encounter was just pretend. The control she wielded over him was undeniable. Maybe Metella and the others were really paying for power, rather than pleasure.

Finnick sank to his knees, and parted his lips in anticipation. Clearly, this woman enjoyed her food-play. Well, it was better than being smacked in the face. Metella stuck her fingers in the dessert bowl so they were dripping in thick caramel. She dangled her hand above Finnick’s mouth, the sauce dripping over his face and chest. After a few playful snaps at her hand, he was forced to lick the sticky caramel off her fingers. He was probably going to have to sick it up afterwards. It must be ninety-nine percent sugar, and he was on a strict diet of egg whites, chicken and asparagus to keep himself in shape while he was in the Capitol.

Finnick imagined how stupid he must look, covered in this disgusting gloop, and he supressed a laugh. He really needed to stop thinking so much during these encounters. It was going to get him in trouble.

“Take me to bed,” she said.

Finnick hurriedly peeled off her dress, almost tripping over the train as he guided her backwards. The bed was piled with overstuffed pillows, the mattress so soft that Finnick was sure he was going to get smothered by it. He felt sorry for whatever poor Avox was going to have to clean all the caramel off the snowy sheets.

Before they got going, Metella took out a box of silvery powder. She sniffed a line off her finger, then offered the box to Finnick. He took some without bothering to ask what it was.

Finnick made the right noises and actions but all he could think about was Annie. If there were twelve or thirteen tributes left after the bloodbath, at least half might be killed off by the hostile environment. Annie might make it through the Games without having to kill more than two or three people. She could do that, surely?

As the powder kicked in, Metella’s face became bloated and distorted in Finnick’s eyes. Everything was too bright, too loud, and her cries of ecstasy were warping into guttural, almost animalistic noises. Sex really did have the power to turn people into beasts.

After everything was over, Finnick lay on the bed with his arm around Metella. Their skin stuck together from the combination of caramel and sweat. It was revolting. He looked at Metella’s contented face, wondering how long he’d have to wait until he could leave.

“What is it?” she asked.

He paused. “I can’t believe how beautiful you are.”

It wasn’t the first lie he’d told during his trip to the Capitol, and it wasn’t likely to be the last.

* * *

“I can’t believe I get to wear real clothes for my interview,” said Annie, twisting to get a better look at her reflection. “There’s actually something covering me up.”

“Enough snark, Cresta,” said Finnick, but his smile undercut his words.

“Perhaps some more flowers?” fussed Myron.

“She’s a work of art,” said Finnick. “No need to add another note to the symphony. And now I need to speak to her about her interviews.”

“Of course,” said Myron, adjusting one of Annie’s curls but not moving from his position.

“In private, please,” said Finnick, his tone polite but firm.

Once Myron had finished apologising and ducked out of the room, Finnick turned to Annie.

“Let me see you properly.”

Annie did a playful twirl. She _felt_ beautiful this time. According to Finnick, people had loved her at the parade because she was ‘mythic and otherworldly’, so they had gone in a completely different direction for the interviews.

The seashell bikini was out, replaced instead with a dress of the palest green chiffon, draped elegantly over her body. Her hair was in glossy curls, half falling across her shoulders, and the other half plaited and twisted around her head. Her prep team had fixed delicate white flowers in the braids, but avoided any kind of jewellery.

“We’re going to make the make the Capitol cry at your grace and sensitivity,” said Finnick, adjusting one of the flowers in her hair. “I’ll stay to watch your interview, but then I have to rush off. There’s a potential sponsor...long story. I’ll see you back at the tribute centre afterwards.”

“I’ll wait up for you.”

“Are you nervous?”

“A little bit,” Annie admitted.

Finnick took her to the mirror and stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders.

“Look at you,” he said. “Look at the girl who has left everything behind, who has gone from a complete long shot to the nation’s favourite to win.”

“I haven’t...”

“People _like you_ , Annie. They’re watching you transform from ducking to swan – and I think they see themselves in you.”

Annie tried to concentrate on her reflection, but she was very aware of Finnick’s body behind her. His presence was hot and overwhelmingly male, with the musky smell of fresh cologne. Back home, she didn’t have any male friends, so she didn’t know if it was normal for Finnick to be touching her arms like this. Was that just how boys behaved?

“This is the girl who’s going to be adored, who’s going to have people queuing around the block to sponsor her.”

“But I only rated a six from the Gamemakers-”

“That’s not important,” said Finnick, turning her around to face him. His bright eyes fixed on hers. “No one wins on strength. It’s all about putting on a show.”

A sharp knock on the door interrupted them. It was one of Annie’s prep team.

“The interviews are about to start.”

Annie tried to run to the door, but Finnick grabbed her hands. She was about to say something, but the look in his eyes made her voice die in her throat. There was a moment of silence, and then Finnick leaned forwards and briefly pressed his lips on hers.

They stared at each other.

Finnick grinned, his mouth framed by dimples. “For luck.”

He pushed her out of the room towards the stage.


	7. Sweet Talk

Annie rushed past the line of tributes, looking for her place in front of Glynn. He was wearing a stiff suit and looked, if possible, less comfortable than when he’d been dressed in skimpy shorts for the tribute parade.

“Where have you been?” he asked, eyes narrow.

“Wardrobe malfunction,” she lied.

Luckily, at that moment the tributes were all called up onto the stage. Annie followed the boy from Three, only faintly hearing the roar from the audience as she found her seat onstage. Once the tributes were arranged, they had to wait and look like they were paying attention until it was time for their interview. Annie only half-listened as the presenter Caesar Flickerman spoke. Strangely, she wasn’t nervous. Everything was out of focus, like it was taking place underwater.

The interviews with the tributes from Districts 1, 2 and 3 sped past, and it was Annie’s turn before she’d had a chance to prepare herself. She took the seat opposite Caesar, her mouth dry. She wasn’t sure if she was actually going to be able to speak.

“You need to blossom before our eyes,” Finnick had told her earlier. Finnick... Annie looked upwards, to where he was sitting with Myron and the other important people in the audience.

 _I kissed Finnick Odair,_ Annie thought and smiled to herself. It was like something out of her childhood fantasies.

No – she was on live television. She needed to concentrate on the host.

“Annie Cresta...” Caesar smiled, his teeth flashing. “Perhaps the most memorable chariot ride in the history of Panem?”

“I don’t know about that,” Annie demurred. “I’m just glad I could save that poor horse. Animals are so important to me.”

Her voice came out stronger than she had expected. She was already doing better than any of the assemblies she’d been forced to take part in at school.

“What a shame there won’t be any horses in the Games!” joked Caesar.

“Are you sure?” Annie cocked her head, smiling cheekily. “I thought no one but the Gamemakers knew what’s in the arena.”

Annie forced herself to keep smiling. Had she come across as rude? But Caesar started chuckling.

“You’ve got me there. Perhaps they’ll add some special ones just for you,” he said. “But Annie, I have to say, if you’ll allow me to, you didn’t start off these Games looking quite as graceful as you do now.”

Annie’s throat tightened with embarrassment. A vivid memory flashed through her head – and probably through the audience’s as well – of herself, shaking onstage, covered in sick.

 _Breathe, breathe..._ Annie told herself. Finnick warned her that this would come up. She had to use it to support her story.

“I was just so overwhelmed,” Annie’s voice caught in her throat. But it was good, it made her sound more believable. “I’m not the sort of girl... No one’s ever picked me for anything, and then I’m chosen for the highest possible honour – representing my District...”

The crowd was quiet, save for a few murmurs. Did they find her pathetic, or did they sympathise? It was impossible to tell.

“I don’t believe that for a moment,” Caesar folded one leg over the other. “Pretty thing that you are.”

“It’s true,” said Annie. “No one’s ever noticed me at school. I was just...”

“I don’t think anyone could help _but_ notice you now, considering what you were wearing at the parade - or what you _weren’t_ wearing _._ What is it about District 4? Why are you all so sexy?”

“There’s something in the water,” Annie smiled.

Caesar laughed too enthusiastically. She hadn’t said something _that_ funny.

“But now – I’ve never felt so welcome. The beautiful dresses, the wonderful people... I’m living every little girl’s dream. My only regret is that my mother isn’t here with me. I miss her so much.”

“Your mother?”

Finnick had advised her not to talk too much about her family. The Capitol wanted entertainment, not moping. But Annie might not get another opportunity to say these things to her mother.

“I argued with her on the day of the reaping,” she said, tears pricking in her eyes. “The last thing I said to her was that I hated her.”

Caesar put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. “Now Annie, was it really as serious as that? I’m sure she didn’t believe you...”

Annie wanted to shove his hand off her, but she forced herself to keep still.

“That’s not the point. I shouldn’t have said those things. I’m all she has in the world, and I need her to know that I’m sorry, and I love her.”

A tear fell, but Annie brushed it away impatiently. She needed to be brave. Her mother would be watching the interviews.

“I will do anything to go back home to her.”

“Well, we wish you the very best of luck,” said Caesar, who then turned to the crowd. “Ladies and gentleman – Annie Cresta!”

There was a pause, and for a moment she was sure that she’d said or done something which had offended the crowd. Then the applause started, and it was unmistakably enthusiastic. Annie put her hand to her heart and dipped her head, as Finnick had taught her. She glanced upwards, and saw her mentor was smiling wholeheartedly from the balcony. Annie knew then that she had managed to impress Finnick, the most fastidious and exacting person in the Capitol, and that was enough for her.

* * *

Metella kept Finnick at the hotel much longer than he had expected, but as soon as he was allowed to go he raced outside and flagged a taxi back to the Tribute Centre. Tomorrow the Games began. It was late, but he had to speak to Annie one last time. She needed to be calm, focused, prepared for tomorrow.

As Finnick knocked on the door to Annie’s bedroom, he noticed that Peggy was standing at the end of the corridor, her eyes narrowed. Well, let her make all the assumptions she wanted. Finnick was going to ensure that his charge was properly briefed, like the responsible mentor he was. There was a long pause, and then the door clicked open.

Annie was wearing a soft blue nightdress, and was paler than ever. After seeing her done up for the interviews, her skin looked uneven without makeup to smooth out her features. But there was something comforting about that, and the lavender bags under her eyes – it made her look like a person not a plastic doll. The long, dark waves of hair were gone as well. After the interviews, Myron had cropped them to her shoulders, on Finnick’s orders. Annie’s waist-length hair would be dangerous in the arena; it could snag in bushes or catch fire.

“Hello,” said Annie, raising her eyes to his face and attempting a smile.

Finnick couldn’t stand seeing her try to put on a show of being brave, when she was the one who would be facing death tomorrow.

“You’ve made a plan with the rest of the Careers?”

“I’m going to guard the cornucopia whilst Calpurnia and the others fight. They’re targeting the boys from Two, Six and Eight and the girls from Five and Seven.”

“While I’ll be hustling sponsors,” Finnick smiled. “I have a good feeling about you, Annie Cresta.”

It wasn’t true. He still couldn’t see how this vulnerable, almost unearthly girl was going to kill anyone. But he had to hope that her survival instincts kicked in once the Games started.

They were so close, he could easily duck his head and kiss her on the lips... except he wasn’t going to. That second before the interview had just been a spur-of-the-moment, impulsive mistake. He hadn’t even known he was going to kiss her until he had already done it.

Now wasn’t the time. He was her mentor, and they both had to concentrate. This might be the last time he saw her – alive. He should go, let her sleep, but he wanted a few extra moments to remember her by.

“Here,” Finnick pulled a ring off his little finger. It wasn’t something from the Capitol. His parents had given it to him for his sixteenth birthday. “Will you wear this – as your District token?”

Annie took it from him, her eyes bright. “Of course.”

She went to the mirror and slipped his token on her index finger. She looked down to examine the pattern on the ring, her shorn curls falling over her face. Finnick could tell she was doing it so he couldn’t see the tears in her eyes.

“Twelve-year-old me would be thrilled,” her smile couldn’t conceal the tremor in her voice. “To have a token from you... I was absolutely in awe of District 4’s resident hero.”

Finnick shoved his hands in his pockets. Nothing made his insides curl up quite like people describing him as a hero.

“All I did was not get killed,” he said. “There was nothing very special about it.”

Annie was crying now. Great. How was she going to hold it together in the arena if she was already like this?

“I’m s-sorry,” said Annie, putting her knuckles to her eyes. “It’s just – all my hair being cut off – I know why, but... I don’t feel like myself.”

They both knew that wasn’t the reason.

Finnick went over to Annie and turned her around to face him. He pushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ears. Who was this girl? He had known her almost his whole life, but he didn’t really understand her. She was happy to follow his instructions, but somehow he felt she understood what the Games really meant more than any tribute he’d mentored. There was something untamed about her, beneath the quiet thoughtfulness. If he’d been given more time, he would have loved to tease out the whole truth of her. But he didn’t. They neither of them had time.

“It will grow back,” he wove his fingers through her hair. “In a few months.”

Annie raised her eyes up to look at him. He’d always thought they were blue, but now he was really looking at them they seemed to have slight hints of grey in them too. There was something about her which took him home. It felt easier to forget about Snow’s demands when he was with her.

“We both know I won’t come back,” said Annie.

She didn’t sound afraid. Instead, she seemed determined.

“You will. The audience love you already.”

“How can I kill them? They’re just children, like me. What will the Gamemakers turn me into?”

Her voice dissolved into tears. He grabbed her slight body and folded his arms around her. If only he could keep out the Capitol, the other tributes...

For a few moments, they stood in silence while she curled into his chest and sobbed. Finnick didn’t have any words to console her with. Another mentor would know the right thing to say, to quiet her fears without trivialising them. To light a determination which would see her through the next few weeks.

“Just do what you have to so that you can go home. Don’t worry about anything else,” he said. “You deserve to live.”

“I can’t-”

“Annie, I know you can. All of this is just temporary.”

Finnick was proof that everything he said was a lie. But it didn’t matter, he’d worry about that later.

He rested his forehead against Annie’s as tears ran down her face. Her skin was enflamed. He felt rather than saw her sobs decrease. How could he let her go into the arena? Finnick had never mentored a tribute who was more of a longshot, and he had never mentored one he had wanted to succeed so badly.

“There were so many things I wanted to do,” said Annie, but she didn’t sound wistful. She sounded angry. “And the Capitol have taken everything. I wasn’t asking for too much. I just wanted to be a schoolteacher and have a family who loved me. All I wanted was a life.”

“The only way back to your life is through the Games. And I know you can do it, but _you_ have to want to win,” said Finnick. “Because I want you to.”

Tears clung to Annie’s eyelashes. He wiped them away with his thumb.

“I should go,” said Finnick, but he didn’t move.

“I’m so scared of disappearing.”

Annie’s distracted gaze fixed on Finnick. Then, without any warning, she closed the space between them, grabbed his face and placed a warm, muddled kiss on his lips.

“Stay. Would you?” she said, her voice breathless.

Finnick knew what she was asking.

“It’s probably against the rules for mentors and tributes to...”

“The Capitol don’t care – as long as we do what we’re supposed to in front of the cameras.”

Finnick thought – no, _knew_ – he should leave now, before he was tempted into something stupid. Annie needed to focus before the Games. They both did.

“You need to rest,” he said.

Finnick tried to push her hair out of her eyes in a friendly, brotherly way, but then he was cupping her cheek in a decidedly non-filial manner. Her skin was so soft... He was running out of reasons to say no. After all, would anyone really care if they spent one night together?

He kissed her hard, slipping his tongue into her mouth. This provoked a rather sweet intake of breath from Annie. He assumed tonight was her first time doing something like this.

 _It could be her last as well._ The unwelcome thought came to Finnick without his consent. He pushed it away and concentrated on making this moment count for something.

Annie was kissing him back enthusiastically now, their mouths sloppy and wet. Finnick tilted his head, and tried to build a proper rhythm that she could echo, but Annie didn’t seem to be listening to his movements.

“Are you sure about this?” he broke away so he could look at her face. Her eyes were storm-dark and terrifying.

Annie didn’t say anything, she just pressed her body up against him impatiently. It felt so quick and hot and real between them, like all the other times he had done this had been a bad dream. Maybe this would help him forget about everything, forget tomorrow, even if only for one night.

He picked her up and took her to the bed. Annie exhaled sharply as she fell back onto the mattress. Finnick yanked off his jacket then crawled on top of her. He could feel her body shaking beneath him. If he didn’t find a way to make her relax, it was never going to work. Luckily this was one thing that Finnick was good at.

Starting with very soft butterfly kisses, Finnick eased his way slowly down her body. As he reached the hollow between her breasts, her stomach muscles clenched.

“Annie, do you want me to stop?”

Wordlessly, she shook her head.

Finnick yanked off his shirt and guided Annie’s hands over the planes of his chest. Her fingertips were cold. She was gazing up at him with adoration – no, that was the wrong word. That made her sound like a lap dog, when she wasn’t, she was a wildcat. But there was something reverent, almost beatific, about her expression. This was important for her. He had to make sure he repaid her trust.

“Finnick?” Annie said hoarsely.

“Yeah?” Finnick looked up at her and smiled. He placed a single kiss on her mouth.

“If I die in the arena...” her voice faltered.

“Don’t think about that. Think about now.”

“Ok,” she said, determination spreading across her face. “Ok, I’m ready. Let’s do it.”

She pulled him in by the hair for a kiss, her nervous fingers yanking a little too tightly. Finnick put his hands back over her body, feeling her shift slightly as he touched her breasts. She felt amazing, every part of her – and he wanted her perhaps just as much as she needed him right now.

Finnick watched Annie’s expression carefully as he trailed his fingers further and further up her thigh, then beneath her nightdress. Doing nothing more than sliding his fingers over her. The rest could wait. Annie’s mouth opened slightly, silently begging him to continue.

Finnick parted her legs with his knee. He breathed into Annie’s ear. “I’m going to be as gentle as I can, but stop me if anything hurts.”

“Do whatever you want to me,” said Annie. “I just want to forget about tomorrow.”

She was seventeen, only a year older than Finnick had been when he lost his virginity. The circumstances were very different, obviously. Finnick had experienced that rite of passage the second time he had mentored at the Games. He’d been summoned to Snow’s mansion, and then taken into the guest bedroom by two servants – one male and one female. They had done everything with him, explaining as they went to prepare Finnick for the President’s plans. It had been a very thorough education.

Not that it had been a total surprise for Finnick. The year before, one of Snow’s richest friends had taken Finnick upstairs during a party and made him strip naked. The man had only looked, without putting a hand on him, but it was enough for Finnick to guess what was in store for him.

He pushed the memories out of his head and tried to concentrate on Annie. She was going to be the first girl from his District that he’d ever slept with. The first time he’d had a choice. He needed to look after her.

Trying to make the sickly nervous feeling in his chest disappear, he went back to kissing her neck. Annie, who seemed impatient, tugged him so that he was on his back and she was on top of him. She leant over him and kissed his mouth. He wound his fingers in her hair, trying to shut out memories of Metella and Felix and every spoiled Capitol citizen he’d ever done this with. This one time was for him – for him, and Annie and no one else.

Annie leaned into him, and Finnick grabbed her waist. But the closer he pulled her the less intimate they seemed to be. All he could see and smell and feel was every other patron who had bribed Snow for the privilege of a night with him.

He jerked upright involuntarily. Startled, Annie almost overbalanced.

“Sorry,” said Finnick.

There was a pause. Finnick knew he should get back to it – if he hadn’t ruined this already.

“We shouldn’t...” he said.

Annie touched his face. “It’s ok. No one’s going to find out. Dead girls can’t tell tales.”

She kissed him again, tugging at his lip with her teeth, and Finnick feebly responded. Annie pushed him back down onto the bed, her body tensed like a spring. One of her hands scrabbled for his belt.

He couldn’t do this.

“Annie. Stop it,” said Finnick firmly.

She pulled back, stung. For a long, horrible moment, they just stayed where they were, Finnick on the bed and Annie straddling him. Neither of them wanted to look the other in the eye. Then Annie hopped off him. She covered herself with a blanket even though she was fully clothed.

Finnick threw his shirt back on. He knew what Annie must be thinking, but he couldn’t explain. There weren’t enough words in Panem’s language to do that.

“I’m sorry. This isn’t my fault.”

What else could he say? The truth was not what Annie needed to hear right now.

Finnick moved to kiss her on the forehead, hoping she would see it as a peace offering. But Annie jerked her head away.

“This isn’t my fault,” Finnick repeated stupidly, doing up his shirt.

The last thing he saw before he ducked out of the room was the expression in Annie's eyes which said she would never forgive him.


	8. The Show

Annie was woken by the sound of her mother knocking on the bedroom door. She burrowed her head under the covers. Weaving the unfinished nets could wait until later. She was just so tired, and it was far easier to cocoon herself in her bedclothes than try to get up.

The knocking persisted. Realising there was no hope for a lie-in, Annie threw back the covers.

Stop. This wasn’t her ceiling, or her room. Annie felt her insides shrink as she took in the clean lines of her bedroom in the Capitol’s Training Centre. It had just been a dream.

Annie told the attendant waiting outside her room that she would be ready in a few moments, and went to the wardrobe to fetch some clothes. She couldn’t quite shake off the feeling of home – she half-expected to find her long cotton skirts and peasant blouses hanging in the wardrobe, rather than the stiff synthetic clothes the Capitol had given her. Today she was going to be taken to the arena.

As Annie changed, she remembered other things too. Things which involved Finnick Odair. How she had pretty much thrown herself at him last night, and how he’d raced in the other direction when she had. That was going to be his last memory of her before the Games – desperate and pathetic and weeping over everything. Not exactly desirable. Definitely not the sort of person you’d see as a contender.

Annie pulled on her shoes and grabbed the letter she had written to her mother. She’d meant to give it to Finnick last night, before she had gotten distracted. She would drop it off on the way.

Outside in the corridor, Annie found the door to Finnick’s bedroom. There was no way she could ask him in person to deliver it to her mother. Not after last night. Instead, Annie pushed the letter under the door, trusting that Finnick would understand what to do with it.

Annie looked at the ring her mentor had given her. Would it hurt to keep it? The token did bring back their humiliating encounter last night, obviously, but it also made her think of home. She wanted to die as a girl from the fishing District, not as a Capitol pawn. But she couldn’t keep anything of Finnick’s near her. He might see her wearing it on the TV and think she was hoping for a reunion after the Games.

Annie refused to be like all those stupid people in the Capitol who fawned over his every movement. She wasn’t delusional - she hadn’t imagined for more than a moment that this beautiful, celebrated, charismatic boy actually cared about her. And everyone knew Finnick wasn’t capable of devoting himself to one person for more than a week or two. But Annie had naïvely imagined he might want to spend a single uncomplicated night together, that he could give her this one experience before she was shipped off to the Games.

Annie bent down again and slid the ring under the door. She hoped Finnick would understand it meant she was going into the Games belonging to no one, especially not to him.

She followed the attendant to the waiting hovercraft. The journey was short, or at least Annie remembered nothing about it. Then she was taken to the holding ground. Myron was there with the clothes she would wear in the Games. He tried to start a conversation, but Annie ignored him and dressed in silence. Her outfit was a simple black jacket, thick trousers and boots lined with fur. Finnick had been right about the arena being some sort of cold environment at any rate.

Annie laced up the boots tightly. These were probably the shoes she would die in.

Myron sat her down and put her shorn hair into two plaits, which he then wrapped around her head and secured with pins.

“Like a victor’s crown,” he said. “I was thinking I could design the most gorgeous dress for your interview after the Games...”

There was a note of hesitation in his voice. Even Myron had no confidence in her. She would probably be the first to die. Other tributes would target her because District 4 usually did well in the Games. Well, at least then she wouldn’t have to kill anyone.

But giving up would mean never seeing her mother or her home again. It wasn’t that Annie thought she was likely to win, but she couldn’t let go of the sound of her mother’s laugh or the smell of salt in the air. Home.

“One minute until launch...” came a disarmingly pleasant female voice.

Annie’s legs went rigid. What would happen if she refused to get into the launcher? If she hid somehow, got out of the holding centre? But Annie knew. The Capitol would find a way to win. She would be punished, probably her whole team would be –including Finnick.

Myron half-helped and half-pushed her into the launcher, and then she was being swept upwards into the light. Annie could only see whiteness and a few disorienting shapes. She blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust, but they didn’t. Then Annie realised that what she was looking at was snow. The arena was covered in snow.

* * *

“Well, that’s my job done for another year,” Haymitch said, almost cheerfully. He poured himself a drink. “Want one?”

“No thanks,” said Finnick, who had already worked a hole in both cuffs of his sweater. “Mine’s still playing.”

Haymitch made an unintelligible noise which was probably something rude and then sloped off to bother someone else.

Finnick turned back to his screen. He hadn’t come to the Mentors Centre to socialise. He was here for the pale girl currently onscreen at the mouth of the cornucopia.

It had been slightly humiliating to see she’d returned his District token, but that wasn’t going to stop him from doing his best to get her through the Games. And to be fair, he probably deserved it. His behaviour yesterday had been appallingly unprofessional. What kind of mentor tries to sleep with his tribute the night before the Games? Finnick was going to put it right by doing everything he could to bring Annie home. He’d be the hardest-working mentor in the history of Panem.

He was sitting in the main hall of the Mentors Centre, a large, blank room filled with a circular table. Each of the mentors had their own individual monitors where they could watch coverage of the Games and track their tribute. Most had gone to the dining hall to get drinks, even ones with tributes still in the running. No one really wanted to watch the bloodbath, the moment that the competitors were all unleashed into the arena. It was the most sickeningly violent part of the Games, and there was nothing much the mentors could do to help their charges.

But Finnick stayed, leaning his head on his hands and watching Annie. They were only twenty minutes in, but she was actually doing quite well. Along with the rest of the group, she had armed herself, and then Annie had stayed by the mouth of the cornucopia to defend the best supplies from other tributes. It was a position which suited Annie’s skills. She could throw well enough to pick off people from a distance, meaning she didn’t have to engage in any close combat.

Now the clearing was empty, except for Annie’s group and the fallen tributes. The blonde girl from One, Calpurnia, gathered the pack together and gave them instructions. Glynn had also managed to make it through the bloodbath, though Finnick didn’t know if that would work to Annie’s advantage or not. Glynn had seemed fairly hostile towards her while they were in the Capitol, but it was possible that he might harbour some loyalty to his District partner. The Careers picked through the items in the cornucopia, dividing the spoils between them. Finnick hoped that Annie was being assertive and getting her fair share of provisions. 

While Annie was busy, Finnick swapped to the tribute monitor to see who was still alive. Apart from Annie’s pack, there were both tributes from Three, Six and Ten as well as the boy from Five and the girl from Nine. That meant eleven tributes gone, a good number.

Finnick’s stomach twisted with a familiar discomfort. He shouldn’t be describing the death of children as good. But that was part of the Games’ power, they drew you in and made you complicit in the violence – as long as it was happening to someone else’s tribute.

Well, there was nothing he could do about it. Either he sat here brooding over the unfairness of the system, or he focused on getting Annie out. And if he was going to succeed, twelve more children would have to die first.

* * *

“Show’s about to start,” said Jasper.

Annie, who had been bent over a pile of twigs trying to make a fire, looked up. “What?”

The anthem of Panem rang out from every corner of the arena. Jasper gestured to the starless sky above them. “The death toll.”

Of course. They were about to see the faces of the fallen tributes so they knew which were still alive. The group had spent so long bickering over who was taking what from the cornucopia that they still hadn’t sorted through everything. But now the others set down whatever they were doing and turned their faces expectantly up to the sky. The only person who didn’t seem excited was Glynn, who was cleaning his spear.

Up in the sky flashed the photos of each of the dead tributes. Calpurnia whooped when the boy from Two’s face appeared, and she began chattering excitedly about how she’d split his head with her mace. He had refused to join the Career pack, and he’d paid the price for it. Annie had a momentary twinge of gratitude that she’d managed to get accepted into the group. She had a feeling that if she hadn’t, her photo would be up in the sky now.

However, her stomach clenched when she saw the girl from District 5. That death belonged to her, partly. The girl had run towards the cornucopia looking for weapons, not seeing that Annie was keeping guard. There had been a horrifying moment when they’d locked eyes, both frozen, with no idea what to do. Annie hoped the girl would be smart and run in the other direction. Instead, she grabbed a sword which was half-hidden under a sleeping bag and bowled toward Annie, screaming.

What exactly happened next? The next thing Annie could remember was seeing the girl with a knife in her stomach, though she had no memory of throwing it. She remembered the girl from Five’s face, slack with surprise. And then Jasper had stuck his spear in her from behind, his weapon going right through her body. The girl stared at Annie with wide, glassy eyes, knowing that she was about to die a few moments before she crumpled into the snow.

However, when Annie looked at the photograph of the girl from Five projected onto the sky, she saw a completely different person. She had a soft, round face and there was a startled look in her eyes, as if the photo had been taken before she was ready.

“Who took that one out?” asked Valencia.

“Me - but I had a little help,” Jasper grinned at Annie. “You really are pretty deadly for someone so small.”

Annie smiled with difficulty. Luckily the others went back to watching the broadcast and didn’t pay any more attention to her. Annie bent her head over the twigs, which were finally starting to spark, so she could wipe tears out of her eyes. The audience couldn’t see her crying over dead tributes. Anyone would have done the same in her circumstances. Whatever Annie did was self-defence, and in the end Jasper had been the one who actually killed her.

A pressure gripped her shoulder. Annie whirled around, brandishing her knife.

“Whoa,” said Glynn, raising his hands. “I was just checking to see if you needed help.”

“Sorry,” Annie said. “Can you find some container to cook the soup?”

Valencia shouted over, “Hey, Glynn, did you get both the kids from Twelve?”

“The boy in the stomach, the girl in the neck,” Glynn threw the words over his shoulder then went back to searching through their supplies.

At the end of the broadcast, Calpurnia and the others cheered as if a sports team had just scored. Annie couldn’t help but flinch.

Glynn spoke quietly to Annie, “Look, ignore them. They’re idiots.”

Annie couldn’t believe that Glynn wasn’t being hostile towards her. They shared a long look.

“It’s – today was hard because it was the first day,” he said. “But tomorrow we’ll be more prepared.”

Glynn handed Annie a container. She filled it with some from the cornucopia. Was this niceness just an act, so he could... what? Kill her? Annie studied his dark eyes, searching for answers, but found they contained the same flat, slightly surly expression as usual. Maybe Glynn just thought she was less untrustworthy than the rest of the Careers. Well, either way, Annie wasn’t going to risk letting her guard down. She couldn’t tell anyone that the tribute she had killed still played on her mind, it would make her look weak.

“I miss home,” said Annie finally, because she had to speak even if she couldn’t say what she meant.

Glynn pressed his lips together and nodded.

Calpurnia came over. She still hadn’t cleaned her spiked mace, which had bits of blood and dirt clinging to it. Annie tried not to look.

“Is the food nearly ready?”

“A few more minutes.”

Calpurnia rolled her eyes, as if that was totally unreasonable.

Once the soup was done, Annie carefully ladled it into whatever containers she could find, making sure that everyone had an equal portion. She handed them around along with some bread rolls. Annie forced herself to eat, one sip at a time. Next to her, Jasper was guzzling his soup greedily.

“Careful. You’ll burn your tongue,” she said.

Jasper grinned. “I can’t help it. I’m starving. What do you think they’ll play on the recaps?”

“Of the bloodbath? I don’t know, just... well, who died and everything.”

“I know, but which deaths do you think they’ll give the most airtime? I know they’ll like Calpurnia with her mace because it’s dramatic and that, but... I hope they also show the girl we got. My dad will be so proud to see me get a kill in on the first day. He loves the Games, we always watch them together every year.”

“I’m sure you’ll make the recaps,” Annie didn’t know how to respond to Jasper’s puppyish enthusiasm.

“I hope so,” His amber eyes looked a little mournful. “I want him to know how well I’m doing.”

Silence fell over the group as everyone finished off their food. Annie pulled her blanket tightly around her. She felt so _cold_ , not just on her fingers and face, but inside her very core. Well, she had better get used to it. Annie was probably going to be feeling cold a lot for the next couple of weeks.

As far as she could see, the arena was mostly made up of snow and trees. The clearing which held the cornucopia was surrounded by a thick, piney woodland on three sides, and a river on the other. It had fresh, drinkable water, which was a blessing. According to Calpurnia and Valencia, who had done some scouting just before it got dark, the woods seemed to contain nothing but trees and bushes, which gave plenty of places for the other tributes to hide. However, unless they’d managed to grab a sleeping bag or blankets from the cornucopia, they were probably going to have a cold and uncomfortable night.

“Did you hear that?” Calpurnia’s head jerked upright.

“Hear what?” Jasper’s hand went to his spear.

“There was some noise – over there.”

Instantly, the group were on their feet, weapons drawn. Annie pulled her flashlight out of her jacket pocket. Her hands were shaking so much it took two attempts to switch it on. Calpurnia crept towards the trees, the others following behind.

“Someone needs to guard the supplies,” pointed out Glynn.

“Valencia can,” said Calpurnia. “Everyone else, come with me.”

Clutching her knife so tight the handle bit into her palm, Annie edged after the others into the dark, snow-covered trees. Calpurnia told them to spread out as they searched.

“Try not to get killed, or anything,” she said with a sneer.

Annie was almost sure that was directed at her.

They began to search. Even with Annie’s torch, the trees seemed impenetrably dark, and every rustle of leaves felt like a pack of the Capitol’s genetically engineered muttations ready to rip them to pieces. Annie reminded herself that it had just been a noise. It was probably – definitely – nothing, or just a tribute trying to hide from the Careers. Whoever it was, they were probably cowering in fear, more scared than Annie was. She was one of the hunters, not the hunted.

Even so, Annie made sure she always had Glynn in the corner of her vision. It wasn’t that she could completely rely on his help, but she trusted him more than the others.

The rest of the group weren’t searching properly. They crashed through the undergrowth, scanning the trees impatiently and poking the bushes with their weapons. Annie moved carefully, searching the snow for any signs of a disturbance. She tried to make her footsteps light, even tried to make her heart go quietly. She noticed a patch of snow which had been shuffled about, as if it had been scraped by someone’s legs. There were definitely tracks, but they didn’t seem to lead anywhere.

She shone her torch about in the branches. Nothing.

Annie lowered the light, but as she did so it caught a flash of movement at the bottom of the tree, half-concealed by bushes. An animal, or a person? Or something worse? She inched closer to inspect it, her legs ready to run if it proved hostile.

Annie’s torch caught a boot. So it was definitely a tribute. Annie was about to call out when she glimpsed a face, brown skin with russet curls. It was the girl from District 9, Sage, the one Annie had spoken to at the snares station. That felt like a lifetime ago now.

She gripped her knife. Should she try to slit Sage’s throat now, before she had time to attack? Or should she call the others over to help? Would the girl from Nine try to hurt her – or would she be too busy making a run for it?

Sage looked up, and their eyes met through the bushes. Her face was full of fear.

Jasper crashed over to Annie, followed by Calpurnia. “Hey. Any luck?”

Annie straightened up. She shook her head.

“I think you imagined it, Cal,” said Jasper.

“I did not!” Calpurnia’s cheeks went pink. “If Annie had kept up with us-”

“Lay off,” said Glynn. “Whoever it was, they must be gone by now. If they were even here at all.”

Calpurnia began to protest, but Glynn interrupted her. “Let’s go back to camp.”

Annie obediently followed behind the two boys. Calpurnia huffed, but she soon caught up with them. No one wanted to be left in the woods alone.

Once they were back in the camp, Glynn volunteered to take the first watch. Annie laid out her sleeping bag, but her mind was whirling so much it was impossible to drift off. How could she have let Sage go? So this girl had spoken to her once and given her back her sandal at the parade. It didn’t mean anything. Sage was not an ally, and she was not going to help Annie survive.

But it had felt different to the girl from District 5. That had been self-defence, and anyway it hadn’t really been Annie’s fault because Jasper had delivered the final blow. The idea of setting Calpurnia and the others on Sage felt like murder. Maybe Annie had let Sage go to prove that she was still human.

Annie felt a tear leak out of the corner of her eyes, and quickly brushed it away. She was stupid, weak, pathetic, and she was never going to survive unless she pulled herself together.


	9. Bottled

“Is it time for lunch yet? We’ve been out here for hours...” Valencia asked.

“So?” snapped Calpurnia. “Do you want to catch the other tributes or not?”

Annie adjusted her aching arms. They had been out in the woods all morning, combing the undergrowth for signs of enemy tributes and finding absolutely nothing.

“I’m going back to camp,” Valencia said.

“Same,” said Glynn shortly. He glanced at Calpurnia. “If you want to keep looking, no one’s stopping you.”

Annie scampered ahead to catch up with her District partner. “We’re never going to find the other tributes like this.”

“What did you say?”

Calpurnia was following behind them, and had clearly heard Annie’s comment.

“Nothing – I mean, maybe we need a different strategy. It’s been two days since-”

“Different strategy?” Calpurnia hissed. “Like what?”

“Well, um – I was just thinking-”

“Will you two shut up? I just want to get something to eat. We can worry about this later,” Glynn scowled.

They trooped back towards the camp in silence, Annie navigating as best she could with the compass. As they approached the clearing, they heard a horrible, throttled cry.

“Jasper!” said Calpurnia.

Suddenly, all fatigue was gone. The four of them drew their weapons and raced towards the cornucopia.

Jasper was on his back, his spear knocked out of his grip. He was wrestling another tribute – a scrawny boy with dark skin who had his hands wrapped around the Career’s throat.

“Cal!” Jasper gasped.

Before Calpurnia could react, Glynn had raced forwards, aiming his spear at the enemy boy’s head. The spear pierced the back of his neck, like a hook through a fish.

Annie caught a movement in the corner of her vision.

“Look – there!”

She pointed to the base of the cornucopia, where someone else was crouching. It was a girl, but Annie couldn’t tell which District she was from. She must be trying to hide from the Careers.

But then Annie saw that the girl was fiddling with something at the bottom of the cornucopia. Was she trying to dig into the snow? Before anyone could get at her, the whole cornucopia began to tip sideways, rolling down towards the river. The girl must have loosened the bolts keeping it in place. That was where they kept most of their food, their spare weapons and kit... And it was all about to be destroyed.

“No!”

There was a splash as the cornucopia hit the water. Annie and the others ran forwards, but the girl stood, brandishing a bow, an arrow nocked and ready to fly. Glynn and Calpurnia tensed, their weapons at the ready. Annie saw the chance to use them as cover. She darted forwards, and grabbed Jasper.

“You can move?” she asked.

He nodded shakily. Annie slung his arm over her shoulder and half-helped and half-dragged him away from danger. As she crawled through the snow, Annie was forced to turn her back on the girl. She kept as low to the ground as possible, expecting at every moment to feel an arrow shoot through her. Finally she made it back to the safety of the trees with Jasper.

“Who is she?” asked Annie.

“From Six. He was too.”

Annie peered from behind the tree. The girl from Six was cautiously backing away, an arrow still pointed in their direction. If she ran, would they be able to overtake her?

“Glynn,” snapped Calpurnia. “Block her.”

An arrow whizzed towards the group. Annie threw herself back down behind her tree, arms over her head. She heard a scream, and gingerly looked up. Valencia had an arrow sticking out of her arm. The girl from Six clearly had good aim.

Valencia grabbed the arrow.

“Don’t-” said Annie.

Too late. Valencia had already yanked it out of her forearm, and stuck her hand over the wound.

Glynn dropped to his knees and crawled forwards in the snow. He turned to the others. “Help me?”

Annie couldn’t let him go alone. She darted towards a rock, which was about the only cover in the clearing. Annie leant against it, yanking her knives out of her belt. She felt another arrow fly over her head. Annie was going to get herself killed.

She glanced at Glynn, and he nodded.

Annie tried to jump up, but her legs were jammed in place. She couldn’t do it. She was going to die.

“Annie!” Glynn yelled.

Suddenly, Annie’s joints yielded. She bobbed up and hurled a knife at the archer, then dived back down. Peeking over the top of her rock, she saw that her knife had missed, but only just. The girl stumbled backwards, and that was all Glynn needed. In one fluid motion, he stood and hurled his spear, which clipped the girl on the shoulder and sent her sprawling onto her back.

Calpurnia raced forwards, hurling herself on top of the girl and pinning her down. She drew a curved knife.

“Are there others?” she shouted at the girl, putting the knife to her throat.

The girl began to cry and shook her head.

“Are you sure? It was just you and the boy?”

“O-only the two of us,” the girl whimpered.

“We should check the woods, in case,” said Jasper, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t see anyone else, but...”

“Fine. You and Val go,” said Calpurnia.

Annie eyed the woods nervously as she went to pick up her fallen knife. Her trousers were wet from crawling through the snow. They clung to her knees when she bent down.

Calpurnia adjusted her position on top of the girl, “What’s your name?”

The girl made an incoherent noise.

“I said _what’s your name_?”

Calpurnia slammed her mace down on the girl’s hand. She screamed. Annie didn’t want to see, but she couldn’t look away.

The girl stuttered something.

“What?” said Calpurnia.

“Pip,” mumbled the girl.

“Pip...” Calpurnia said the word slowly as if she were testing the feel of it in her mouth. She smiled. Her expression made Annie tighten her hand on her knife. It was terrifying.

“Does your hand hurt, Pip?” asked Calpurnia.

Pip nodded, her lip trembling.

“Shame.”

Calpurnia brought her mace down again, provoking a pitiful wail. Clearly, she did not plan to make this a quick or merciful death. Annie looked meaningfully at Glynn, hoping her would do something. Instead, he just shook his head slightly, and turned away as if to say, ‘Leave it’.

Annie swallowed, as she heard Calpurnia taunt the poor girl and make a start smashing her other hand.

“Please don’t...” whimpered Pip.

Calpurnia grabbed her by the chin. “Your friend almost killed Jasper. I’m going to make you sorry.”

Valencia and Jasper emerged back into the clearing.

“No one else there, not that we can see...” Jasper paused, taking in Calpurnia and Pip. His eyes widened.

Valencia gave a nervous laugh. “What have you done to her hands?”

Glynn touched Annie’s arm. “We should get down to the river. See what we can salvage.”

But Annie couldn’t move, couldn’t look at anything else. Calpurnia raised her mace again, aiming for Pip’s leg. The girl tried to scream, but it shattered into a pitiful sob. Annie ran forwards.

“Stop it! Calpurnia!”

“ _What_?”

The blonde girl turned. Her eyes were dilated, like a predator on the hunt. The rest of the group stayed silent. Annie knew she was on her own.

“Just get it over with,” said Annie.

Calpurnia stood and slammed her mace into the ground, her eyes fixed on Annie. It was a naked, undisguised threat. “Maybe I don’t want to just yet!”

“We’re wasting time,” Annie felt her voice tremble. “Our supplies are...”

“She’s right,” said Jasper. “We need to save whatever we can.”

He staked his spear by the river, and rolled up his sleeves.

Calpurnia inhaled deeply, and then she smiled and shoved her knife in Annie’s direction. Instinctively, Annie tried to shrink back, away from the weapon. Then she realised that Calpurnia wasn’t trying to attack her. She was offering the knife to Annie.

“Go on then. Do the honours.”

“What?”

“You do it.”

“It’s not...she’s your-”

“I’ll let you have the final blow, Annie. I’m feeling generous.”

Annie reluctantly took the knife and walked over to Pip, who was lying in the snow like a broken doll. She reminded herself that she had done this before – during the bloodbath, when she had thrown a knife at the girl from District Five. But that had been in the haze of battle, when she was under attack and there had been no time to think. Now it felt like a murder.

Annie knelt over the girl, her body so horribly broken and bloody that death would probably be less painful. She was doing her a kindness. Pip began to sob unrestrained tears, shedding all inhibitions now she knew she was about to die. Annie positioned her arm to deliver the killing blow, but her hand wouldn’t stop shaking. She knew she should do it, she knew it was the only way, but her body wasn’t cooperating.

“Come on...” sighed Valencia.

A smile spread on Calpurnia’s face. “You can’t do it, can you? Even when you have someone right there, you’re too scared. It’s pathetic!”

“Stop it,” said Annie, her arm trembling.

Calpurnia turned up to the sky, “Are you watching, Panem? This tribute is an embarrassment to the Games!”

Pip whimpered. Annie was making things worse by dragging this out. She had to finish it. She couldn’t.

“You’re a coward,” spat Calpurnia. “A pathetic, spineless...”

A hand roughly snatched the knife out of Annie’s grip. She ducked, but it was just Glynn. He slit Pip’s throat, his face expressionless.

“What did you do?” Calpurnia howled.

“We don’t have time for this. Help us get the stuff out the river – whatever’s left of it.”

Furious, the blonde girl shoved Glynn. “Why did you help her?”

“We’ve got more important things to worry about.”

Calpurnia’s face had gone red. She shoved Glynn again. He brandished the knife, still red with Pip’s blood. Calpurnia dodged back and took out one of her own. Annie snatched up a fallen arrow from the snow, which was the closest thing to hand she could defend herself with. If it came to it.

Calpurnia appealed to Jasper. “Can you believe this? He’s protecting her! She’s dead weight. I bet she’ll get us all killed.”

Glynn sighed. “Does anyone else actually want to kick Annie out the group?”

There was a pause. Valencia looked like she was about to say something, but she eventually just shrugged.

“Fine. It’s decided. I’m going into the river. Annie, do you want to bandage Valencia’s arm? Seeing as you’re the only person here who knows first aid.”

Annie went over to her rucksack, hardly daring to take her eyes off Calpurnia. She pulled out the small pack of bandages and antiseptic wipes, and did her best to patch up Valencia’s arm. Meanwhile, the two boys stripped off their trousers and waded into the river to recover the supplies. Everyone was quiet, fully aware that for the first time in the Games, they had turned weapons on each other. Their alliance had never seemed more fragile.

Annie tightened Valencia’s bandage and nodded. “You’re done.”

She risked a glance at Calpurnia. The girl from Two hadn’t gone to help the boys. Instead, she was cleaning the blood off her mace, her piercing eyes fixed on Annie.

Swallowing, Annie went over to the small pile of supplies the boys had fished out the river. She tried to dry off and save whatever might still be useful. Most of the food had been ruined, obviously. Annie struggled to act as normal as possible, but she was sure the group would never be the same. Soon, the infighting would start, and she knew exactly who Calpurnia was going to pick on first.

Annie had to get out as soon as possible, or she’d never get out at all.

* * *

“I really think this is an opportunity to _say_ something, you know? Touch people all over the Capitol with our message.”

“Absolutely,” said Finnick. “I think-”

He didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. A make-up artist fluttered over to him, pushing his hair about and dabbing powder on his face.

“You know, I really don’t see this as just a commercial. For me, this is a piece of moving art.” The director looked over at the crew. “Have we reset yet? You’re so slow I could get a face lift between takes.”

Finnick tried to attract the attention of one of the runners, hoping he could persuade them to smuggle his communicator out of his dressing room. It was a palm-sized device that mentors used to keep an eye on their tributes when they weren’t at their computer station. Peggy had promised to keep him updated if anything happened. When Finnick left the Mentor Centre, Annie and the others had been spending an uneventful morning scouting for tributes. But things could change so quickly in the arena. Finnick wanted to reassure himself that she was fine, which he currently couldn’t do because the director had banned all devices from the studio as they ‘ruined the creative atmosphere’.

Before he could catch someone’s eye, the crew finished resetting. Finnick was sent back to crouch in the tank of chilly water which had been erected in the studio for the commercial. He waited for his cue.

“Alright Finnick,” said the director. “I really want you to work it this time. And... _action_!”

Finnick climbed out of the pool, water streaming off him in every direction. He pushed back his soaking hair, then took out a bottle and swigged from it moodily. Technically, he was wearing a shirt, but it was so drenched at this point that it was basically transparent and clung to his stomach like a sloppy kiss.

“Cut.”

_Please let him be happy with this take._

The director walked over, his face pensive. Finnick’s hopes of getting away early evaporated.

“Finn, darling, can I be completely honest? This isn’t working for me right now.”

Finnick mirrored the director’s serious expression. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just...” the director sighed. “I want to make the water sexy. And I’m afraid _this_ isn’t sexy.”

“Is water ever sexy?”

“This is advertising. Everything should be sexy.”

A cold drop of water ran down the back of Finnick’s neck. “Ok. Do you have any specific notes?”

The producer, a tall woman with green hair styled in a beehive, bustled over. “Are you ready for another take? We do need to push on.”

“Yes. Thank you. I’m talking,” the director put up his hand, the gesture equally rude and patronising. To Finnick’s surprise, the woman with the beehive didn’t react.

“As I was about to say...” the director turned deliberately towards Finnick. “Help me, Finn. You need to make us _thirst_ for the product. Allow us to find it desirable.”

“D’you want me to deep throat the bottle?” Finnick grinned.

The director gave him a pained smile. “This advert...you have to remember we’re not creating some little video that’s going to air on television between broadcasts. People will be talking about it for months – if I can achieve my vision, that is...”

“I completely agree,” said Finnick, catching the producer’s eye. She smiled.

“Show me why you’re the Capitol’s favourite victor,” said the director. “And don’t shiver when you get out of the water. It’s deeply unsexy.”

“It would probably help if this studio wasn’t an icebox,” said the beehive lady. “I’ll tell them to find some heaters.”

Thanks to her, Finnick made it through the rest of the shoot without getting hypothermia. As soon as the director had finally called a wrap, Finnick asked an assistant to grab his communicator. He was desperate to shower, but he knew he really should say thank you to the producer first. He threw a white dressing gown on and went over to her. She was busy sorting through a box of equipment and didn’t notice him at first.

“Oh. Finnick,” she looked up and smiled. “Thank you for all your hard work today. You were brilliant.”

The woman tried to hoist the box onto her hip while carrying a coffee and a tablet in the other hand.

“Let me...” Finnick took the box from her.

“Thank you, it’s been such a day...” she said. “I’m sorry, this can’t have been a very pleasant shoot for you, with all the – well, you know. But they insisted you be – not be wearing...”

“Don’t worry. No one’s ever loved me for my personality.”

The assistant approached with Finnick’s communicator, looking slightly awed. When Finnick switched it back on, it immediately buzzed. There was a message from Peggy: _Annie alive. But call as soon as you get this_.

Finnick felt his stomach drop. He fought to keep his expression neutral and his attention on the producer.

“You must let me buy you a drink some time,” the woman said, adjusting her glasses.

Finnick paused. In his world, ‘buy you a drink’ was code for ‘go to a hotel so we can screw like rabbits’. Was this part of the deal, that he get into bed with this woman? Snow hadn’t said anything about it when he asked him to do the shoot... Perhaps he had assumed Finnick would automatically know this was part of the deal. Equally, this woman might just be trying her luck with Panem’s favourite pretty boy.

Finnick didn’t have time for this. He needed to get back to Annie. The best he could do was take the safe option, and try to figure out this mess later

“Why not?” he said.

It wasn’t like it committed him to anything.

As Finnick headed to his dressing room to collect the rest of his things, he rang Peggy.

“Is Annie alright?”

“Turn on your TV.”

Finnick switched on the set in his dressing room. They were recapping this afternoon’s developments. Finnick watched, dismayed, as Annie tried to stop Calpurnia from torturing another tribute, and then failed to make the killing blow when the knife was handed to her.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he told Peggy grimly. “Don’t let anything happen to her.”

Finnick threw on his clothes, not bothering to dry himself off. Why did Annie have to be all heart and no self-preservation? Couldn’t she just be a bad person and play by the rules, like Finnick and everyone else in Panem, rather than being so compassionate and chaotic and _good?_ Finnick would try to do damage control with the sponsors, obviously. But even he would have a hard time explaining why they should back a tribute that refused to kill.

He was doing his best to be a good mentor, but Annie was making it _really_ hard to succeed.


	10. Enemies and Allies

“How much food have we got left?” asked Jasper.

Annie spread out what remained of their once plentiful supplies. Apart from a set of sandwiches in a sealed bag, which had been a gift from a sponsor, all they had left were some strips of meat, a handful of carrots and two tins of beans.

“Enough for tonight and breakfast. Just about...”

“I’ll go fishing tomorrow,” said Glynn.

“Are we going to set up camp for the evening now?” Valencia asked.

Jasper shrugged, “May as well, I guess.”

The clearing felt very wide and open now they didn’t have the cornucopia to shelter by. They set up camp underneath a pine tree, which would hopefully provide some cover if it snowed again. As she was rolling out her sleeping bag, Annie noticed grey-green mushrooms sprouting at the base of the trunk. She was amazed they had survived all this snow, but perhaps they had been genetically modified by the Capitol. She remembered learning about them at the Training Centre. They were poisonous. Not something to add to their food rations, then.

After Valencia fetched some firewood, Annie got started on dinner. She decided to save the sandwiches for breakfast tomorrow, and tried to cobble together a stew out of the random ingredients they had left. No one offered to help. Annie wondered why the group had decided that it was her job to mother everyone else. After she went off on her own, she looked forward to Calpurnia having to peel her own carrots.

As Annie was bringing the stew to the boil, Valencia pointed to something in the darkening sky.

“What’s that?”

Annie couldn’t see what she was looking at.

“I think it’s smoke,” said Jasper.

“A campfire?” said Glynn.

 _Or a trap,_ Annie thought.

The group gathered their weapons, but their reactions were noticeably slower than they had been before. They were all tired – _exhausted._ Annie had a feeling that they wouldn’t put up a good fight if they were tested.

“Let’s go see,” said Calpurnia. “Glynn, you can guard the camp.”

“I’m not doing it by myself. Look at what happened earlier.”

“I’ll guard it with him,” said Annie.

“No. Jasper can stay. You two come with me.”

Annie reluctantly pulled out her knives and shouldered her pack, which felt twice as heavy as it had done this morning. She didn’t want to go into the woods at night, and she especially didn’t want to go with Calpurnia. It seemed to Annie that she was being deliberately separated from the others.

She tried to catch Glynn’s eye, but he was looking through his pack and didn’t see. Annie couldn’t stall any longer without it becoming awkward. The only advantage she had at the moment was that she suspected their plan – she couldn’t blow it by acting as if she didn’t trust them.

“Ok, I’m ready,” Annie smiled, pulling out her compass. Her other hand gripped her knife tightly.

The three girls headed into the woods. Annie felt her whole body tensing like a spring. She knew that she might be able to outrun the other two tributes, but she would never be able to outfight them.

* * *

Finnick flicked from camera to camera, trying to find an angle on the Games which didn’t show that the other Careers were about to gang up and murder his tribute. He had seen the girl from Two, on Calpurnia’s orders, slip away while the others were setting up camp and make a fire up at the top of the hill. And now the two girls had separated Annie from Glynn and were leading her into a trap.

To do her credit, Annie seemed completely aware that Calpurnia was planning something. He could tell from her careful, guarded movements, the way she never stopped looking between the two girls as they walked. He thought he’d caught her looking up imploringly a couple of times, as if she were gazing right through the screen and silently begging for Finnick’s help. Though perhaps that was just his imagination... And what help was Finnick supposed to give her? He was stuck behind a desk, uselessly counting down the moments until they attacked her – which he assumed they planned to do once they were far enough away from the camp so the other Careers wouldn’t hear her screams.

Finnick stabbed the controls on his computer station so viciously that one of the keys broke. He couldn’t watch this happen to Annie.

“Peggy,” he snapped at his fellow mentor, who was sitting quietly at her station. “I can’t do this.”

“What?” she adjusted her glasses and looked over at him.

“Annie. They’re going to kill her. Can’t you get Glynn to go after her? Something?”

“How?”

Finnick didn’t have an answer. He didn’t know. He didn’t know anything.

“Peggy, what am I supposed to do?”

He was speaking too loud. Other mentors were looking over, one was even smiling patronizingly. He had to cool it down.

“What am I supposed to do?” he said again, quietly.

“Wait,” said Peggy. “See what happens.”

“Ok. Fine,” Finnick turned back to his monitor. “Thanks for the invaluable advice.”

Annie’s face filled up the screen, almost luminous even though she was sleep-deprived and cold. If Finnick could trade places with her, he’d do it without hesitating. He would personally take care of every single other kid in that arena if it meant she could walk free. But he was stuck here, worse than useless.

As Annie trudged through the snow, her eyes darted about, clearly hunting for an escape route. But the other two girls were watching her relentlessly, not letting her out of their sight. Annie’s only hope was if something else grabbed their attention long enough for her to slip away. Some kind of distraction.

Maybe there was one thing he could do for her. Finnick pulled the touchpad closer to him and ordered the cheapest gift he could send her. It was a longshot, but maybe this would give Annie the cover she needed. _Maybe._

It took the group about ten minutes to walk up the hill, but it felt like hours. Finnick worked his thumb through the hole in his sweater, unable to do anything but stare at the monitor. It was going to arrive too late. Or it would arrive in time but it wouldn’t help anything. It was a stupid plan. Annie was never going to make it...

At last he saw it onscreen, a silver parachute descending from the sky. All three girls looked up.

“Is that a gift?” asked Valencia.

“Obviously,” said Calpurnia.

He could see Annie’s expression, which told him that she knew that this could be her chance to escape. He hoped she realised that this wasn’t just a coincidence, that he had been the one to send it. But honestly it didn’t really matter, as long as she got away.

Then a little miracle happened. While the parachute was on the descent, it tangled in a tree branch, almost fell loose and then got properly stuck. Annie shuffled back slightly, clearly debating whether she should run now.

 _Not yet. Hold onto your nerve,_ Finnick silently willed her.

“Seriously!” Calpurnia sighed. She looked between her and the other girls. “Who wants to go up?”

No one spoke.

“Annie?” said Calpurnia.

_No._

Annie shrank in on herself and shrugged her shoulders. She could be quite a convincing actress when she wanted to be.

“I don’t know... it’s so far up. I’m scared of heights,” she said, her voice pitched at a perfect whine.

Calpurnia looked exasperated. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

She handed her mace to Valencia, and began to crawl up the tree. Thankfully, she wasn’t a great climber and made slow progress.

“Go. _Go,”_ Finnick muttered at the screen.

Annie edged backwards, her feet silent in the snow. Then, when she saw that the others were too focused on the parachute to pay attention to her, she began to run.

It took Calpurnia and Valencia a good thirty seconds to realise she was missing.

“Wait...” Valencia looked about vacantly. “Where did she go?”

“What?” said Calpurnia.

“Annie.”

“I thought she was next to you!”

“She was, but...”

“Idiot!” Calpurnia abandoned the parachute, and awkwardly shuffled back down onto the ground. “She’s running away.”

Calpurnia snatched her mace back, and the two girls chased after Annie.

Finnick switched to a bird’s eye view of the arena, where he could track all three tributes. Annie had a good head start, and she was faster than the others. She had the river on one side, and the forest on the other, which led back to the camp. If she could just keep on gaining ground and veering left, she would – hopefully – make it down the hill and away from them. Luckily, both Calpurnia and Valencia were close combat fighters. Even if they threw some knives at Annie, they would probably miss.

But as Finnick watched the markers on the map, he saw that the two girls were cutting off her escape route, rather than trying to chase Annie directly. His tribute seemed to realise what they were doing, because she changed direction, going forwards instead of down the hill. This was bad. Annie was being herded towards that dam which was carved into the side of the cliff.

Finnick leaned forwards, unable to move his eyes from the screen. If he looked away, they’d get her. Annie was backed onto the edge now. The girls were coming in from either side, blocking her from both directions. Annie was dead. He’d failed her.

Annie teetered, looking both ways. Then she put her knife back in her pack.

“Fight them _,_ ” Finnick muttered. How could she just give up?

Annie glanced over her shoulder at the sheer drop behind her, the waterfall flowing down the dam and into the river below. Finnick realised what she was planning a second before she did it.

Annie ran to the edge of the dam and jumped.

Time seemed to slow down as Annie fell, a miniature, doll-like figure against the waterfall behind her. It was a terrifyingly long way to the bottom. She might die. She might not...

Finnick watched as Annie smacked into the river below, disappearing out of sight into the dark water.

* * *

Annie broke the surface and gulped fresh air. She had made it. Dazed, she tread water and looked about her, dragging wet tendrils of hair out her eyes. She still seemed to be alive – for the time being anyway. Now Annie was able to breathe again, she could appreciate what she’d just done, how she had managed to get away... and how cold she was.

She struggled to the shore, weighed down by her wet clothes and heavy pack. Dragging herself onto the river bank, she lay for a moment and took as many breaths as her shaking body could manage. But Annie knew she couldn’t stay like this, because if she did it would be all too easy to close her eyes, and then what would happen to her?

Annie yanked open her backpack, expecting to find everything inside soaking wet and useless. But most of it was pretty dry, apart from the things right at the very top. Annie silently gave thanks for the Gamemakers’ incredible technology, which meant that waterproof things really were waterproof. She had an extra t-shirt and leggings somewhere, as well as a blanket she could use as a towel.

She ducked into some bushes and changed before she got hypothermia. Her teeth rattled. It was too cold to be dripping with water. Annie wasn’t sure what to do about her boots, which were soaked, and eventually decided she’d just have to put them back on until she found a place to hide. It would take Calpurnia and Valencia at least ten minutes to get here from all the way up the hill – unless they took the same route that she did, which Annie doubted they’d try. She had to get out of here, fast.

Annie thought of Glynn with a pang. What would they do to him when they got back to camp? If they didn’t trust her, they probably didn’t trust Glynn either. Unless he had been in on the plan to get rid of her... But Annie didn’t believe that. Glynn was taciturn and downright hostile at times, but he wasn’t the type to betray his allies. Annie didn’t want to return to the clearing, but she didn’t have a choice. She headed back towards the camp, her feet squelching in her wet boots.

When Annie arrived, she discovered Jasper slumped by the fire, sleeping while Glynn kept watch. His face dropped in shock when he saw Annie’s bedraggled state. Any lingering suspicions that he was in on Calpurnia’s plan vanished.

“What happened? Are you alright?”

Annie put her finger to her lips and whispered. “They tried to get me.”

“Calpurnia and Valencia?”

Annie nodded. “They’re hunting for me now. I dived down into the river to get away from them.”

“You... from the top of the dam?”

“Yes.”

“How are you still alive?”

“I don’t know,” Annie found herself giving a half-smile, despite everything. “It was... But they’re going to come after you next. I heard them talking about it.”

That wasn’t completely true, but it was true enough. And honestly, Annie would say anything to get Glynn to come with her. She wanted him on her side, and away from Calpurnia’s gang.

“Are you sure?”

Annie rifled through their supplies, taking whatever was useful. Anything dry or warm. Glynn was still standing there. Annie didn’t know what he was waiting for.

“We need to go now. Before she gets back.”

“What are you doing?” said a voice which didn’t belong to Glynn.

Annie whipped around. It was Jasper, who was stood by the fire, his spear in his hands. How long had he been awake for, and what had he overheard?

“Jasper...” said Annie. “It was a false alarm, turns out-”

“You’re running off, aren’t you?” said Jasper, looking at her bulging pack.

“What? No. I was just-”

“I told Cal she was wrong not to trust you. She was sure the two of you were plotting something, but I defended you both.”

“You’re not... tell him, Glynn.”

“Guess I was wrong about you.”

Jasper raised his spear, but before he could do anything, Glynn had hurled himself at the tribute from District 1, knocking them both to the ground. The two boys tussled in the snow. They were moving so fast, Annie worried that if she tried to help, she’d accidentally stick Glynn instead.

Her District partner pinned Jasper to the ground.

“Hold him still,” he hissed to Annie, grabbing one of her knives.

This was it. They were about to kill one of their own. A boy who had volunteered to make his father proud. Except he wasn’t one of theirs, every ally was really an enemy in the Games.

Annie covered Jasper’s puckered mouth before he could let out a scream. He sank his teeth into her hands, but she didn’t cry out. His eyes were darting about, panicked, and Annie could feel him try to kick and buck his hips, hoping to dislodge Glynn.

Annie’s District partner glanced at her, and then slid the knife along Jasper’s throat. There was so much blood from his neck and his mouth. He tried to cry out, but the only sound he could make was a faint, sickening gurgle.

“Shh...” Annie murmured, smoothing his hair back from his forehead.

They stayed there, heads bent over Jasper until all the life had drained out of him. Glynn got up, but Annie couldn’t move just yet. She closed Jasper’s glassy amber eyes and wiped the trail of blood from his mouth. Did his father think Jasper had died a noble death? Or did he regret encouraging his son to volunteer?

The wind started up again, and Annie’s teeth chattered. She was so _cold_ it was giving her a headache, especially with her still-damp hair and feet.

Glynn picked up her bag and thrust it at her unceremoniously. “We need to get out of here.”

Wordlessly, Annie took her bag. It seemed they were now real allies.

Glynn grabbed his pack and crammed it full of random items. “The others will be back soon. We should burn what we can’t carry.”

“Wait,” said Annie. “I think...”

She ran back to the supplies, a plan half-formed in her head. Annie took out the sandwiches they had been gifted this morning.

“What are you doing?” asked Glynn.

“Giving them a surprise.”

Annie picked the mushrooms she had spotted under the tree. She sliced them as thinly as she could manage and stuffed them into the sandwich filling.

“Are those poisonous?” asked Glynn.

“What do you think?”

While Glynn was throwing the rest of the supplies on the campfire, Annie crammed the sandwiches into Jasper’s pack. She positioned the bag so it was half-hidden by the boy’s body, trying to avoid looking at his face again. It would have to do. Annie thought it was at least half-convincing that his bag could have been overlooked in the darkness by two people in a hurry to leave.

The fire was now crackling decently.

“Let’s go,” said Glynn.

“I don’t know how far I can...” said Annie. “I’m so cold, and my feet are still wet from the river.”

Glynn frowned. Annie prepared herself for him to tell her she was on her own, that he was not going to carry dead weight. Instead, Glynn shrugged.

“Right. Let’s follow the river for a few minutes, away from here. Then we’ll shelter in a tree and you can get warmed up.”

As Annie ran after him into the woods, she felt immensely grateful that she had gone back for Glynn.

Once they had located a suitable tree, they got ready to set up camp. Glynn wasn’t much of a climber, so Annie had to help him into the higher branches. Once they were up there, she gingerly took off her damp boots and tied them to her backpack. Her toes were blue with cold, but she could still wiggle them which she hoped meant she didn’t have frostbite.

“You want to share a sleeping bag? It’s warmer,” said Glynn.

“Alright,” Annie responded, surprising even herself.

They ate the last scraps of food, wrapped up in as many layers as possible, and then secured themselves for the night. She and Glynn ended up pressed together, Glynn’s arm around Annie’s shoulders. It was basically impossible to do anything else, the space was so confined.

After a long pause, Glynn spoke abruptly as if he’d been trying to plan his words for a while.

“Look, you saved my life tonight.”

Annie wasn’t sure where this was heading, but she suddenly felt very vulnerable. She moved a hand, furtively looking for her knife

“All I want to say is...” Glynn frowned. “You need to promise me you won’t do that again – freak out and refuse to kill someone. Obviously I’m grateful for what you did, but I can’t afford to have an ally who won’t – What was that?”

Annie was about to ask him what he was talking about, but then she heard it too.

It was just a few quiet moans at first, but it mutated into the most horrible wailing, worse than any sound Annie could have imagined. There was no mistaking the voices – it was definitely Calpurnia and Valencia. Annie pressed her hand over her mouth, avoiding Glynn’s eyes. The noise made her feel physically ill.

“They must have eaten the sandwiches. That was a good plan,” said Glynn.

Annie couldn’t look at him. She nodded silently.

“So...what’s your answer?”

“What?”

“Are you serious about being a team and – doing what we have to do?”

“I think I just proved what I’m capable of, don’t you think?”

“Fine. You’re right.”

They lay in silence for a few moments, the only sound the awful cries of pain.

“Ignore it,” Glynn said at last.

He turned over and fell asleep almost immediately. But Annie couldn’t stop listening. It was her fault that those girls were slowly being poisoned, their organs shutting down one by one as their bodies tried and failed to fight it off. Annie couldn’t ignore it. To do that would make her a coward.

What did her mother think of her now? Did she hate her daughter, or was she glad that two more tributes were out of the way?

Annie sat silently, until the screaming quietened and she heard two cannons which signalled the end of Calpurnia and Valencia’s lives.


	11. Ambush

Finnick still wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to be sleeping with this woman or not. He had accepted the offer of drinks with the producer from the commercial – Galatea was her name. But two rounds of expensive liqueur later, and he was no wiser about her expectations.

Finnick performed his usual routine. He asked her lots of questions, acted like he found the answers interesting and avoided talking about himself. If there was one thing that Finnick had learnt, it was that people were basically all self-involved. They cared about their own petty problems and were only interested in others as a way of satisfying their desires or relieving boredom.

Galatea’s passion, it turned out, was art. She described the exhibitions she had attended, the paintings and sculptures she’d brought for her own personal collection. Finnick did his best to pretend he found it totally fascinating. However, it was hard to summon much enthusiasm about things which had no real function or purpose, and only existed to look pretty – just like Finnick himself.

“That sounds beautiful,” he said, not bothering to try to imagine the piece she described.

“It is,” Galatea drained her glass. She looked at him almost shyly. “Would you like to come by my place and see it?”

Ah. So they had come to that moment. Well, it wasn’t the least convincing pretence that a Capitol citizen had used to reel him in. Finnick’s instincts had clearly been correct. Snow had expected him to get into bed with this woman after all, he just hadn’t bothered to put it into words. It was funny, his patrons were allowed to be completely blunt with him. They had paid for the privilege, after all, but most of them were as coy and charming as if Finnick actually had the option to turn them down.

They strolled back to Galatea’s apartment, which occupied the whole floor of a glittering skyscraper. Even Finnick couldn’t help but be a little impressed by the immense rooms, decorated with gold leaf and marble. Everything screamed _wealth._ There was no way some TV producer could afford a place like this without help. She must come from money.

Galatea shushed him as they entered the living room. “We have to keep the noise down. My daughter will be asleep.”

“You have a daughter?”

Finnick hoped that this evening wasn’t going to involve him doing things to Galatea while her husband watched. He really didn’t feel like an audience tonight.

“Your husband – is he...” he cleared his throat.

“Europa’s father lives downtown,” said Galatea.

The tight set of her mouth indicated that there was a long, painful and probably not very interesting story behind her words. Finnick decided to change the subject.

“Are you going to show me the painting?”

“Oh, right. It’s just here.”

Galatea took him over to the canvas. It was thickly daubed with abstract paint, brilliant blues which looked deep enough to swim in.

“It’s stunning,” said Finnick. He didn’t really know what to say. “The colour, it looks just like...”

He was going to say it looked like the ocean back in District 4 after a storm, but he didn’t want to associate anything in the Capitol with home.

“Just like the sky,” he said.

Galatea seemed pleased by his response, or at least satisfied enough to show him the rest of her collection. Finnick nodded earnestly while she talked. Galatea’s skin was white and smooth, but it had a brittle quality like china. She had a thick coating of shimmering turquoise on each eyelid. Subtlety was _never_ in style in the Capitol.

“And this is the last one,” said Galatea.

What a relief. Finnick assumed that meant the preamble was over and they could move onto the real reason he was here. Actually going through with it was easier than the horrible anticipation beforehand.

“Well... that’s it,” she said.

There was a long pause. Finnick guessed that Galatea was trying to find a ladylike way of inviting him to her bedroom.

“Finnick, I don’t want to see rude...” Galatea looked at the floor, then quickly glanced up at him.

“Yeah?” He put an indulgent smile on his face and leaned closer. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“I have a nine o’clock meeting tomorrow, so if you wouldn’t mind...”

It took Finnick a moment to realise that Galatea was asking him to leave.

“Of course. Thank you for showing me around.”

Finnick prickled with indignation as he searched for a taxi outside her building. Why had Galatea asked him for drinks if she hadn’t wanted anything from him? Finnick was almost offended by how misleading she had been. She’d said she wanted to thank him for the shoot, but how was he to know she was actually being genuine?

Finnick spotted a group of schoolgirls chattering by the kerbside. He kept his head down in the hope that he wouldn’t be recognised.

“Isn’t that – oh my... look!” one of the girls squeaked.

They swarmed over, hands pulling him in all directions. Finnick briefly considered making a run for it, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort. He did everything they asked, signed autographs, posed for photos with the same smile each time. The careless, confident ‘I’m Finnick Odair’ grin. He’d had lots of chances to perfect it.

Eventually, he dragged himself away from the group without having his shirt torn off him, which was a minor miracle. When he arrived at the Mentors Centre, Finnick logged back into his computer and tried to clear his mind of Capitol politics. It was late, and he was the only one still up. The others who still had live tributes were probably in the sleeping pods or chatting up potential sponsors.

Finnick scrolled through the tribute monitor. All asleep, just as he had expected. After the drama of the Career pack splintering and Annie’s trap, the Gamemakers were letting them have a peaceful night. Finnick found Annie, who was still huddled in the thicket with Glynn. From a camera positioned directly above them, he could just glimpse the white of her forehead. Hopefully she was getting a deep and dreamless sleep, ready for whatever entertainment Justus had planned for tomorrow.

Finnick couldn’t believe the stunt Annie had pulled with those sandwiches. Just when everyone had written her off, she proved that she was still a contender, but with strategy rather than brawn. She never seemed to run out of ways to surprise him.

He felt a twinge when he saw that Glynn had an arm around Annie. They shouldn’t put that much trust in each other. Only one of them could go home, and it had to be her.

* * *

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” asked Annie.

She nudged a cautious foot into the river. Glynn had already stripped off his clothes and was wading in, splashing water in all directions.

“Get in. You stink like rotten herring.”

Glynn jumped into the river, submerging completely for a moment, before his head bobbed at the surface.

Annie glanced about nervously. There was no sign of other tributes, at least not that she could see, but that didn’t make it safe. Her courage was frayed after two days of running and hiding with Glynn, and it was hard not to see threats everywhere she looked. She had never appreciated how comparatively safe she had been in the Games until now. In the Career pack, she had been one of the hunters. Now she and Glynn had no protection from the six tributes that were still out there, and might attack at any moment.

Glynn spat water at her. Annie found herself laughing.

“Hurry up...” he said.

The call of the water – and the idea of being clean – overpowered her.

“Don’t look,” said Annie.

She peeled off her grimy clothes and sank into the river. It wasn’t warm, but at least it hadn’t frozen over.

“I haven’t seen you smile properly since we got into the arena,” said Glynn.

“I’ve been a bit worried about getting killed.” Annie teased her hair out of its nest of tangles. “It’s different for you.”

“Why?”

“Well...you chose to be here. You volunteered.”

Glynn didn’t say anything more as they both finished washing themselves and their clothes. Once they were out of the water, they hung their t-shirts and trousers from a tree to dry in the sunshine. Then Annie and Glynn sat on the bank wrapped in their sleeping bags and waited. She was very strict about making sure their clothes were completely dry before they put it back on to avoid hypothermia.

“Sometimes our choices get made for us,” said Glynn, digging a twig into the stiff mud.

“What?”

“If I didn’t volunteer for the Games, what would I be? Just some poor kid from the shanty huts, eking out a living on the big trawlers.”

Annie’s temper flared, but she tried to keep her voice even. “I don’t know what my mother will do if I don’t come home.”

Glynn’s eyes met hers. “No. Neither do I. It’ll destroy my family.”

“So why volunteer?”

“I had to do it,” said Glynn.

Of course, Glynn’s ego couldn’t bear the idea of being insignificant.

“Why?” she asked.

“It’s...” Glynn looked at the ground. “I can’t explain it.”

Annie felt anger rise to the back of her throat. She clenched her teeth, trying to force herself not to say something that she'd regret. After all, did it really matter how either of them had come to be here? But Annie wished that she’d had the luxury not to be chosen...

“I’m going to sort out dinner,” she said.

They didn’t have much food left, so Annie got together some wires to catch fish. She didn’t have any success and eventually had to let Glynn show her how to do it. He cooked the spoils on the fire, and they sat down to eat.

“You don’t like me,” said Glynn.

“It’s not that...” Annie selected her words carefully before she spoke. “But you volunteered and I didn’t. We’re different.”

There was a long pause. Annie thought that was the end of the conversation, but then Glynn spoke quietly.

“Did you know the boy who was picked at our reaping ceremony?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“His name is Simon,” Glynn swallowed. “We grew up together.”

“So you volunteered to save him?”

Annie had heard of people putting themselves forward to save a younger sibling, but never a friend. She didn’t think she could ever have done what Glynn did, if she’d been in his place.

“He was so angry with me,” he said, smiling ruefully. “He said he’d never forgive me if I didn’t come home. But Simon lost an arm in his family’s forge when he was younger. So it was simple, really.”

Annie felt herself staring at Glynn, unable to help herself. She had always assumed that he had volunteered for glory. Now his taciturn moods all through their time in the Capitol took on a different meaning completely.

“I’ll help you,” said Annie.

“With what?”

“If it can’t be me... I want you to win. But you have to promise you’ll look after my mother. Make sure she has everything she needs and – go and see her sometimes, so she doesn’t get lonely.”

“Alright.”

“You have to promise.”

“Yes. I promise.” Glynn looked at her levelly.

Annie trusted him to keep his word. It was a little bit comforting to know that her mother would be provided for, that something good could come out of Annie competing in the Games. They finished their meal in silence and found a sheltered spot to get out their sleeping bags. Annie volunteered to take the first watch, even though being alone in the forest at night still scared her.

She tried to think of something concrete to stop herself from imagining what was hiding in the trees. The only thing which came to mind was Finnick Odair. She had made a concentrated effort not to think about him ever since that humiliating night before the Games. To be honest, she had been more worried about staying alive.

But now for whatever reason, her thoughts wound back to him. What was he doing? Was he in the Mentors Centre, watching over her? No, it seemed more likely that he was out at a glittering party, being fawned over and admired.

So far the only thing he’d done was send that gift to distract Calpurnia, and she wasn’t even sure that had been him. She wanted to believe it was. Annie had to assume he was saving the sponsors’ money for when she really needed something. Either that, or no one wanted to support her.

No, that was too bleak to consider. She had absolute faith in Finnick’s abilities to win her sponsors. He was so charming, he could persuade you to do almost anything. It wasn’t just that he was absurdly handsome, it was the way his eyes would smile when he saw you. How he would lean in to catch what you said, as if every word was precious to him. He made it easy to forget that you were just some girl he was mentoring as a favour to his mother. Annie didn’t believe he meant to be misleading. He was just naturally captivating and didn’t always know how to switch it off.

A rustle in the trees pulled Annie back to the present. She clutched her knife, listening intently. Nothing. But Annie wasn’t going to risk ignoring it.

She woke Glynn. “I heard something. Out there.”

“Another tribute?”

“I don’t know. I just heard... I don’t know.”

Glynn grabbed his spear. “Where?”

Annie pointed towards the trees on their left. Silently, they got to their feet and crept forwards. She and Glynn walked in step with each other, like perfect hunting partners.

But there was nothing to find except trees and shadows.

“You’re sure you heard something?” asked Glynn.

“Yes...” said Annie, but she was beginning to doubt it herself.

“If I give you a leg up, can you climb that tree? Tell me if you can see anything.”

Annie scampered as high up as she dared. She could see almost nothing in the darkness, except the snow lining the branches. Below her, Glynn ranged with his spear at the ready.

And then Annie saw a flurry of movement. She had one second before it – the figure – had descended on Glynn.

Annie screamed his name, but the warning came too late. She threw herself back down towards the ground, knocking against branches, scraping her palms. There was the sound of scuffling below, but she couldn’t tell who was winning.

Her knees jarred as she hit the floor. Glynn swung his spear towards the figure – it had its hood up, but it was a boy. She thought he might be from District Ten. He was tall and held something large in his hands. A big, ugly machete with a curved blade.

The attacker kicked Glynn to the floor. Without thinking, Annie launched herself forwards and jumped onto the boy’s back. She had to save Glynn. The attacker cried out, and tried to buck Annie off his back. She held on grimly, raised her knife and stabbed at him. Annie aimed for his neck, but he jerked at the last moment so she ended up catching his shoulder.

The boy gave a guttural roar and yanked Annie’s arms from around his neck. She was thrown backwards onto the ground. Dazed, she looked up and saw the boy knock Glynn’s spear out of his hand. Glynn tried to retrieve his weapon, but the attacker slammed his foot down on the spear and swung at Glynn with his knife.

Blood spurted everywhere. Glynn’s head was in the snow, a few feet from his body. Annie screamed, the sound filling the whole woods, the whole arena. The boy turned towards her, face set in a determined expression. She was going to die.

Annie lobbed her knife at him wildly as he advanced. It missed. The boy slashed at her, but she dodged backwards, dropping her other knife as she did so. Annie crouched and ran her hands through the snow, searching for her weapon. But then the boy shoved her backwards and slashed with his machete.

Annie howled, feeling the skin over her stomach rip open. She kicked out at the other tribute, which electrified the pain in her abdomen. Unable to breathe or see, she dragged herself backwards.

“No-” said the boy.

Annie hurled snow at him, the only thing she had to hand. But then her fingers grazed something. Her knife.

The boy was coming closer. The pain from Annie’s stomach made her eyes swim. She couldn’t even see to throw her weapon. Annie tightened her hand around the knife, waiting for the right moment.

The boy raised his machete to deliver the final blow. Annie pulled her knife out and stabbed him in the thigh. He screamed, clutching his leg. It wasn’t a fatal wound, but it was enough to distract him. Annie hauled herself to her feet, the movement sending shocks through every part of her body.

“You’re dead,” grunted the boy. “I would have finished you off quickly, but now you’ll die slow.”

Annie clamped her hand over her abdomen and ran.


	12. Lifeline

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're over halfway through this fic now, so I just wanted to say a huge 'thank you' for all your kudos and comments. It always makes my day to hear that someone's enjoying the story :) 
> 
> Emily xox
> 
> \----

“It can’t be that much!”

“Finnick...” Peggy glared at him. “Calm down.”

“Check it again,” said Finnick. “ _Please_.”

The lady – the stupid, smug woman in charge of medicines – swivelled the screen around for him to see. There it was, an astronomically high figure. Absurd. He was trying to buy a tube of cream, not a hovercraft.

“There must be something else. Something less expensive.”

“I’m sorry, Mr Odair. It’s the only thing strong enough for that kind of wound.”

Finnick clamped his lips together to stop himself from saying something stupid.

Peggy nodded at the medicine advisor, “We’ll have a think about it.”

She then led Finnick back to the main hall, which was now half-empty. There were only six tributes left, apart from Annie. Finnick went to his monitor to reassure himself that she was still alive. There. The machine was picking up the faint patter of her heart. It was impossible to get a proper look at her, because she had made a nest for herself in a thicket at the foot of a tree. But even so, you only had to glance at her vitals displayed on his screen to know that her wound was infected.

“How much do we have?” Finnick asked.

Peggy checked. “Not even half of what that medicine costs.”

Finnick dragged his hand through his hair. “Fine. I’ll pay the rest.”

He’d amassed quite the private fortune from his Victor winnings and from his patron’s gifts, more than he could ever need. What was the point of having all this dirty money if he couldn’t use it now?

“You know we can’t. It’s against the rules.”

He lowered his voice. “Can’t we just pretend it’s a gift from someone else?”

“Finnick... you know they’ll find out. And whatever the punishment is, I’m sure it’ll be bad – for you and Annie.”

She was right, like usual.

“Well, we’ll have to find someone else. Another sponsor.”

“Who’s going to sponsor _that_? They’d be throwing their money away.”

Finnick prickled. “I just need to find the right person.”

Peggy spoke gently – or gently for her. “Finnick, you must see...”

“What?” he didn’t mean for the word to come out as aggressively as it did.

Peggy leaned over and spoke in a low, confidential tone. “We have enough money to get her a decent amount of morphling.”

“That’s a pain killer. It doesn’t cure anything.”

“If we get her a concentrated dose and she swallows it in one, it will be enough to put her to sleep.”

They locked eyes. Finnick understood what she meant. A strong enough dose and Annie would never wake up. Technically, this wasn’t allowed either, but the Gamemakers usually overlooked any mentors wanting to put tributes past help out of their misery. Days and days of painful suffering followed by an anticlimactic death wasn’t the Capitol’s idea of entertainment.

“What kind of a sick joke is that? You said you’d _help_ me now Glynn’s out of the running. That’s what District 4 does-”

“I _am_ helping,” said Peggy.

“By trying to murdering my tribute?”

Peggy grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the bar, and poured two drinks. “OK, you wanted my advice. Now listen to me.”

“Fine,” Finnick knocked back his drink, not caring that it burned his throat. “Please try to justify why we should kill her.”

“Overdose – it’s a clean, painless way to go. Her infection’s bad, and even if you do magically get the money for the medicine, what then? Do you think she’d be in a state to fight other tributes?”

“She’s a person, not some prize horse you put to sleep when she’s broken a leg.”

“I’m sorry, Finnick, but she doesn’t have it in her to win. Can you honestly imagine her finishing off the other tributes in cold blood?”

“She took out Calpurnia and-”

“That was self-defence, it’s different. You need a ruthless streak to be a Victor, and she doesn’t have it.”

Finnick didn’t respond, partly because none of this was helpful, and partly because he’d always privately had doubts about Annie’s ability to kill. Peggy wasn’t saying anything he hadn’t already thought, not that he would ever admit that. There was something defiant about Annie, and even in the arena she seemed to follow her own code rather than obeying the Captiol’s.

“She’s already lost, Finnick. Why do you find that so hard to see?”

He clenched his jaw, unable to articulate to Peggy that part of himself – untouched by the Capitol – couldn’t stand the idea of seeing Annie in a coffin, her bright eyes lifeless.

Instead, he ignored Peggy’s question. “I’m her mentor. And I’ll fight until her heart stops beating.”

“You’re being selfish-”

“Shut up!”

Finnick threw his glass on the floor, smashing it to splinters. He knew it was childish, but he didn’t care. Then he smashed the bottle as well, just because he could. Peggy folded her arms. She looked massively underwhelmed by his brutish display of masculinity.

“Finished?” she asked.

Finnick saw his forearm had a trail of blood running down it. He reluctantly allowed Peggy to clean the cut on his palm. She wrapped a bandage around the wound, her actions careful but not overly gentle.

“I’m going to bring her home,” he said.

“I won’t stop you. Just don’t expect me to help. That girl has suffered enough.”

* * *

Finnick made a list of all the Capitol patrons he was still on speaking terms with. It wasn’t as many names as he’d like. So many of them got confused about the difference between business and reality. They’d become enraged when Finnick didn’t want to continue their liaison next time he was in the Capitol. With those people, it always ended badly. For some reason, they thought that just because Snow was forcing him to tell them he cared about them, that didn’t make it any less true.

Other patrons were more balanced, and took his romantic posturing with a healthy dose of scepticism. These were ones he could still ring up and try to wheedle a favour out of. He scheduled meetings with them in the Sponsors’ Lounge next door, one after the other. Each conversation followed the same pattern. Everyone was delighted to hear from him, eager to fill him in about what they’d been doing since their last encounter. But as soon as he mentioned Annie, they became very quiet. And once he told them how much money he needed, they almost stopped speaking altogether.

He heard a myriad of excuses, from the believable to the bizarre. One man simply said that there was no point – the girl was clearly finished. Finnick managed to be polite, even if his voice did sound a little strained. They were all hypocrites. This game was being put on for their entertainment; they could at least chip in a little to help his tribute.

After Finnick had crossed the last name off his list, he slumped back in silence. Perhaps he was worth less than he thought. Annie had come so far, Finnick couldn’t fail her now when it was just a question of money. He’d promised her mother, and more importantly he had promised Annie.

Then he remembered – the producer from the bottled water commercial. What was her name? Galatea! She was rich enough to be able to afford it, he was sure, and there was something soft-hearted about her. She wasn’t a patron though. What sort of person would give out that much money when asked by some random acquaintance?

Well, Finnick would have to become more than that. He searched for her phone number.

“Hello?”

“Galatea. It’s Finnick. I was waiting for you to call, but you haven’t, so I gave up playing hard to get.”

There was a pause, which Finnick hoped meant she was flattered.

“That’s very – it’s good to hear from you,” she said at last.

This was all much more difficult when he couldn’t see her face.

“Where are you? It sounds noisy.”

“Oh, I’m on set.”

“Hope your director is behaving himself.”

“Well...”

“Why don’t you blow off work early? We could be the first ones in the bar. It would be good to catch up.”

“I’m afraid that’s not going to happen. Things are a bit chaotic here.”

Was she blowing him off?

“Come on...” said Finnick, in his warmest, most persuasive voice. “It will be fun.”

“I really can’t, Finnick. I’m sorry. You know what shoot days are like, and the director’s just fired one of the actors,” she said. “But I can meet you after? Would that work?”

Finnick hoped that Annie could put off dying until this evening.

“Great. I’ll pick you up from the studio.”

Finnick had a few hours to kill, so he went back to his room to shower, shave and change. He picked out fitted blue pants and a crisp white shirt, which were the most ‘Finnick Odair’ things in his wardrobe. Tonight he had to look like he was worth a quarter of a million dollars. As he was carefully adding a dab of gel to his hair, creating the ‘naturally tousled’ look that the Capitol adored, he felt an uneasy twist in his stomach. It was like being nervous, except Finnick never got nervous doing this anymore. Galatea, he was sure, wouldn’t be difficult to persuade. A lonely, stressed divorcée, who was balancing a demanding career and childcare? She was practically going to fall into his arms. And Finnick knew he was good. He had been taught by professionals, after all.

But it was also so demeaning. Finnick assumed he was dead to the humiliation, after four years as the Capitol’s favourite pet. But this was different. All the other times he had been forced to do it. Now he was making himself into a gigolo all on his own.

For a moment, it seemed like a lot for Annie to ask of him. Who was she to Finnick, really? Just the latest tribute from his District, a family friend, not someone he was particularly close to. But even as he wavered, he knew it was inevitable that he would go through with it. Annie was like one of the mermaids which filled District 4’s legends, luring sailors below the surface with their unearthly charms. The idea of her was enough to persuade him to do almost anything. 

Finnick spritzed himself with cologne, grabbed his jacket and headed to the elevator. He couldn’t help it – Annie Cresta was enough to ruin him.

* * *

Galatea admitted defeat so easily that Finnick was almost embarrassed for her.

He took her to a bar and ordered rounds of brightly coloured cocktails for them both, listening patiently while she ranted about how stressful her day had been and how difficult the director was. Then he turned to more pleasant topics – about herself, her daughter and her ambitions. He found any excuse to touch her, catching her lips with his gaze as if he were fantasizing about kissing them. From the way her eyes followed his face, he could tell that he had won.

Finnick lent in, his mouth a few inches from hers. He willed her to make the first move. If she did that, it meant that she had initiated it and whatever happened next wasn’t his fault.

“I...” Galatea looked down and gave a high-pitched giggle. “Finnick, I’m too old for you. Stop it.”

“I don’t care,” said Finnick. “Do you?”

It turned out that Galatea didn’t.

They went back to her building, kissing in the elevator all the way up to her apartment. Finnick pulled her into the bedroom as if he couldn’t wait to tear her clothes off her. After all, Annie wasn’t going to be able to hold on forever. As he gathered Galatea onto his lap, she touched her fingers to his face, her movements unexpectedly gentle.

“There’s such a sadness in you, Finnick Odair. Beneath all the charm.”

Finnick blinked. He didn’t like the quiet way that she looked at him, as if she could see past all his smouldering and arch quips. It felt more exposing than actually being naked. Finnick needed to distract her.

He laid her down on the bed, and put on the greatest show of his life. Every trick he knew, he used to make this woman feel extraordinary. It was the same as ever, the usual straining and undignified noises, but it felt sharper, more immediate. This was all for Annie.

In the end, it was disgustingly simple. After they had finished, Galatea put on the television, which was showing a recap of today’s events inside the arena. And then it was all too easy to work Annie into the conversation, how he had promised her mother he would keep her alive, the cost of the medicine which was the only thing that could save her.

“But don’t you have sponsors?”

“I’ve raised half the money, but I just don’t think I’ll be able to get the rest before she...”

He let the long, ominous silence hang in the air.

“I could help? That poor little girl, you must get her the medicine.”

Finnick thanked her over and over, kissing her mouth, her neck, her thighs. He felt a flicker of something like guilt, but he quickly pushed it away. After all, wasn’t it Galatea’s fault – her and the rest of the Capitol’s – that Annie was injured in the first place? They had turned him into a whore, her into a warrior, and he had to crawl on his knees, thanking her as if she was his saving grace.

* * *

Annie wondered what it would be like to die. She knew it was inevitable now, that it was just a matter of waiting. The wound on her abdomen was ragged with pain and crusted with ugly yellow puss. At first, Annie had tried to clean it, but it had hurt so much that she’d passed out, and when she’d woken up there had been more blood everywhere. Anyway, she couldn’t really use her arms now. They were too heavy, and her vision blurred whenever she tried to move.

Some people said that dying was like falling asleep, but she had an awful feeling it was going to be more like being gobbled up by a black hole. She was far from home, alone, injured, scared, without even her mother here to hold her hand. Finnick hadn’t sent her anything the whole time she had been hiding, not even something for the pain. Clearly, he’d decided she wasn’t worth trying to save.

Annie wished she could use these last moments to think over her life. The better times, when she was a free girl growing up by the sea. Being taught how to make fishnets by her mother. Swimming. But the harder she thought, the more indistinct her memories became. There was a thick, pearly fog clogging up her brain, swallowing up everything except the horrible screams of the tributes that she had seen die. The girl from Five, Valencia, Jasper, Pip, Calpurnia, Glynn... all gone. And now it was her turn.

Something brushed tentatively against the back of her hand, like a stray kite. Annie wanted to push it away, but its motions were so gentle it was easier just to ignore it. If someone was trying to kill her, they were doing a very pathetic job. Annie curled up on her side and tried to rest.

But the kite, or whatever it was, brushed against her again. There was something strangely insistent about it, so Annie grudgingly opened her eyes. It was night-time, and so gloomy that she could barely see anything. She reached out, the movement drawing the throbbing pain in her abdomen to the surface. There was something half-tangled in the twigs and branches at the mouth of her hideaway, something soft and silver. Annie drew it towards her.

A parachute. Attached was a small tube of medicine, the size of Annie’s palm. She was going to be alright. Annie opened the cream, but her hands were covered with mud. Annie urged her dizzy, half-broken brain to think of a way around this. Her water bottle, of course. She could use that to clean her hand. Annie reached out to grab her pack, but the strain sent a sharp pain to her stomach. She gasped, feeling more blood trickling from her wound. But she could not give up. Grimly determined, she cradled her abdomen with one hand, and reached out the other to hook her bag towards her. The bottle was still there, in one of the pouches.

Annie drizzled water over her palms, washing them as clean as she could manage. Then she took the tube, squeezed out a dollop of cream and slathered it over her wound. It hurt to apply, but once Annie had settled back and let the cream take effect, things changed. The pain was still there, lurking beneath the surface, but the raw edge had been blunted. Annie sighed, and the movement didn’t make her dizzy. The relief was palpable, like soaking a burn in cool water.

After forcing herself to swallow a few mouthfuls of water, she curled up, ready to sleep properly. Finnick’s face drifted in and out of focus as she dozed. This gift proved that he still had faith in her. Sending this was like holding her hand without touching, a message telling her that she still could find her way back home.


	13. Caught

Finnick was woken by a soft kiss.

He smiled lazily as Galatea leant back on the pillow, her face resting a few inches from his.

“Morning,” said Finnick.

“Almost. It’s just gone 12.30. I didn’t want to wake you up – you looked so peaceful.”

How had he slept this late? Had Annie got the medicine?

“Don’t you have to go to work?” Finnick said, trying to hide the panicked edge in his voice. He propped his head up on his hands to stop himself from immediately diving for his communicator.

“I called in sick,” said Galatea. She pushed her hair behind her ears self-consciously. “That’s the first time I’ve ever done something like that.”

“I feel honoured,” he said wryly.

Slipping his arms around Galatea’s body, he drew her to him and buried his face in her neck. How long would he have to keep this charade up? He guessed at least until the end of the trip. Last night Galatea had given him the chance to save Annie’s life. He had to pay for every single dollar.

Galatea broke away from him and sat up.

“What’s wrong?” asked Finnick, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

“You know, you have a pretty bad reputation in the Capitol,” she said at last.

Finnick arched an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

“Well, you seem to date one person after another in pretty quick succession. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course, but...”

Finnick moved behind her, so she was sitting in between his legs. He slipped his arms around Galatea, pulling her back against his chest. Comforting. Dependable. She seemed like a woman who would prefer ‘Perfect Boyfriend’ over ‘Passionate Lover’.

“That’s not what’s happening here. This is different.”

Galatea twisted her head so she could look him in the eye. “Do you mean that?”

“Completely,” said Finnick.

He kissed her deeply.

“Do you want something to eat?” she asked.

“If you’re offering.”

Galatea got out of bed and slipped on a brightly coloured robe patterned with birds. “I’ll go make us some breakfast... Lunch? Whatever we’re calling it.”

Finnick was surprised and a little confused that she wasn’t asking the maid do it. He had never met someone from the Capitol elite who could so much as boil an egg, even though they all had lavishly stocked kitchens. Perhaps Galatea was a bit of an eccentric.

He made a move to throw back the duvet, but she stopped him. “No. I want you to stay here and relax. I’ll bring it to you when it’s done. Hope you like waffles.”

Finnick caught her by the fingers and drew her to him. He whispered huskily in her ear. “Don’t take too long. I’m famished.”

Galatea bent her head and smiled, as if she wasn’t used to this kind of suggestive flirting.

As soon as she left the room, Finnick checked his communicator. No new messages from Peggy, not since the one from last night saying the medicine was on its way to Annie. Was no news good, or bad? Impatient, Finnick switched on the television and flicked to coverage of the Games. What if the medicine hadn’t worked? No, how could he think that? This was state of the art Capitol technology, it was going to work.

They were recapping a nasty brawl between the boys from Three and Ten which had left both of them with bad injuries. Good. That little shit from Ten deserved it, after what he’d done to Annie. Finnick waited for news of his tribute, chewing his nail until he tasted blood.

And then there she was onscreen, emerging from her den to retrieve the parachute. When the programme cut to a close-up, Finnick saw that her cheeks were unnaturally flushed, her face thin, hair greasy and knotted. But she was alive.

Annie took up the parachute, and Finnick felt a stab of pride. That was his medicine. He had earned it for her. As he watched, a new expression flooded into her blank eyes. Something like hope. Finnick put his hand towards the television screen, knowing it was foolish but not caring.

“You’re coming home, Annie,” he murmured.

All he wanted was for the screen to dissolve so he could reach into the arena and pull her to safety. Annie didn’t belong in the Games, or the Capitol. She should be in District 4, standing on the clifftops with a pretty dress and flushed cheeks as she looked out at the fishing boats coming into harbour. Her hair would be long again, whipping in the breeze like a flag.

A noise made him look up. Galatea was standing in the doorway, her lips pressed together in a hard, suspicious line. Finnick put his hand back down, but she wouldn’t stop staring at him. What did she know – or think she knew?

Finnick grinned. “How’s breakfast? I, uh, was just checking on my tribute. She’s – got the medicine.”

“I noticed.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Finnick didn’t like the way she looked at him, wary and perhaps even a little hurt. He needed to create a distraction. Finnick padded across the room to her. He unfolded Galatea’s arms and draped them around his neck so they were standing with their bodies pressed against each other.

“You’re such a generous woman,” he said, punctuating each word with a light kiss on her jawline. “Just another thing I’ve loved learning about you...”

“Finnick...”

He gathered her up and laid her on the bed.

“Breakfast can wait, right?” he grinned, adjusting his position. He’d better get comfortable, because he had a feeling he was going to be here for a while.

Finnick undid Galatea’s robe, his eyes never leaving her face. He pressed a trail of kisses down her stomach, earning a tiny gasp from Galatea. By the time he was done, she’d have forgotten that she ever harboured doubts about Finnick’s true intentions.

* * *

Annie had no plan anymore, except not to get killed. She didn’t know what day it was, which tributes were still alive or how she was ever going to get out of the arena. The only thing she could do was hide.

Thanks to Finnick’s medicine, her wound was now just a red slash on her stomach. Annie was still shaky on her feet and tired most of the time, but she knew that she was lucky to be alive. The first time she had woken up properly after applying the cream, she had left her hiding place to go find water and been dazzled by the sunlight on the snow. The forest had seemed so strange and breath-taking after existing in a haze of darkness and fog for so long.

It had been three days since then, and Annie hadn’t seen or heard from any other tributes. She had built up her nest, hiding the entrance with branches and rocks so it was basically impossible to see her from the outside. Annie knew she couldn’t climb a tree in her current state, and anyway she didn’t have any rope to secure herself in it – that had been in Glynn’s pack. Poor Glynn...

Every night after dark, Annie went to the river to refill her water bottle and forage for food. She had managed to catch fish once, but apart from that she lived off edible berries and roots, which only seemed to grow down by the river. Even then, you had to be careful not to pick something poisonous. Annie couldn’t remember everything from the test at the Training Centre, so she only ate things she was sure were safe. That meant never being entirely full.

Yesterday, the Gamemakers had held a feast, but Annie stayed away. It had been hard, imagining crusty bread rolls, warm chicken, apples whose juices would run down your chin when you bit into them. But Annie only had one knife left to defend herself with, and kept getting these strange dizzy spells where she got confused and thought she was back with Glynn. Finnick hadn’t sent her that medicine just so she could take ridiculous risks with her life.

Other tributes had tried their luck. A cannon had fired shortly after the feast started, and this evening she had seen the boy from Five’s face up in the sky. Another soul lost.

Annie shifted in the den and pulled her blanket closer around her. Now she wasn’t allowed to light a fire any more, she had almost forgotten what it was like to be warm. She desperately needed more food. Annie pulled out her water bottle, hoping she could trick her stomach into feeling less empty, but there was only a tiny drizzle of water left. The snow around her nest was too dirty to eat, and it was still an hour or more before sunset.

Annie hunkered down, trying to distract herself. When she wasn’t doing anything, her thoughts tended to twist back to Glynn – the clearing, his head rolling in the snow. She kept wondering what would have happened if she’d been a better fighter. Would Glynn still be alive...?

No, no, this was the opposite of what she was supposed to be doing. She had to be alert, and focused. Someone or something could come for her at any moment. The Capitol must be getting bored, which was why the Gamemakers had organised that feast. She had a feeling that most of the remaining tributes were doing the same thing that she was – hiding.

When watching the Games growing up, Annie had noticed that often the competition would drag on for longer if the Career pack broke apart or were taken out early on. The Careers usually favoured an aggressive strategy, actively hunting down other tributes, whereas many contestants from the outlying Districts took a more defensive approach. This often meant the Gamemakers had to devise schemes to flush them out and draw them all together.

It still wasn’t dark yet, but her stomach was so empty. She would have to risk it. Hopefully, if she went quickly she would be back before anyone had the chance to notice her. Annie stood, wincing, and gathered her things. She drew out her knife, and crept through the trees towards the river. Suddenly, a scream pierced the woods. Not one scream – two. High-pitched girls’ voices, agonized. Annie brandished her weapon, before she realised that she knew those cries. It was Calpurnia and Valencia, that night they died from Annie’s poison. They were just in her head.

Annie lowered her knife, and tried to breathe in and out. _They are not real,_ she told herself firmly. But that didn’t stop her legs from shaking. She was never going to get to the river, let alone survive the Games...

She wanted to give up, but she had come too far for that. She imagined what her mother would do, if she was here with Annie. Mrs Cresta would turn her daughter’s face so she couldn’t help but look directly into her eyes, and tell her firmly that she _had_ to carry on. Annie edged onwards, her joints stiff. Once she saw the river, her instincts took over and she darted forwards. She took a quick look around, to check that no other tribute was in sight, and then drank until her belly was full. The soothing sound of the waterfall flowing down the dam helped block out any other memories.

Out of nowhere, something flew at her head. Annie dived down onto her front, trying to get out of the way. She risked a quick glance behind her, and saw a large rock had smacked into one of the trees, leaving a nasty scar on the bark. If she hadn’t ducked, it would have taken her head off. Someone was out there...

Annie couldn’t see where they were, or if they had other weapons. Her only chance was to get away. She wasn’t strong enough to fight. Glynn had died, she wasn’t allowed to die too. Annie crawled towards the trees, her legs and arms shaking so hard that she could barely move. As soon as she was back under cover, she forced herself onto her feet and ran. She was too slow, her legs still trembly from her illness. Annie shed her pack, hoping that would help her outrun her attacker. She could hear the crunch of snow which meant the other tribute was gaining on her.

Annie had no plan, except to keep running. The only weapon she had left was a single knife. If she threw it and missed, then she’d have nothing to defend herself with. Not that she’d be much use at hand-to-hand combat either, given her current state.

She had to get off the ground. If she could scale a tree, maybe she could get out of reach. Hopefully the other tribute couldn’t climb as well as Annie.

She hurled herself up onto a branch, but just as she was scrabbling to balance, she felt something grab the back of her coat and drag her back to the ground. The other tribute threw themselves on top of her. Annie could taste blood. Blood and snow. The attacker pinner her arms to the ground and snatched the knife out of her hand. Annie could see their face for the first time.

It was Sage, the girl from District 9.

“Oh...” Annie stared.

The girl looked changed. She was even thinner than before, with ratty hair and a smudge of dirt on her cheek. And she smelled like she hadn’t washed since she was in the Capitol. But her deep brown, fearful eyes were still the same.

“I remember you!” Annie gasped. It was difficult to speak with Sage sitting on her chest. “We spoke in the Training Centre... And the arena – I saw you that night.”

“When you were out hunting with the Careers. I saw them up in the sky. How is it they all died, but you survived?”

Sage relaxed her grip slightly on the thick branch she’d hacked into a primitive club. Maybe if Annie could keep her talking, she could find a way to escape.

“Glynn took Jasper out, and then we ran away – Glynn and I – because they were planning on killing us.”

“You Careers never learn. If you just stuck together, you’d always win.”

Annie could see the uncertainty in Sage’s eyes. Would this girl really be able to kill her? Annie felt that they had shared too many moments together now. It made it impossible to see each other as enemies.

“Don’t kill me,” said Annie. “I’m more use to you alive. We’re stronger together. There aren’t any other tributes left who are still allies, are there?”

She was just making it up, hoping that it was true.

“It would be us against everyone else. How many are there left, apart from me and you?”

“Both tributes from Three and from Ten. And us,” Sage responded.

“No one else would expect us to form an alliance, would they?” Annie babbled. “I think I saw the boy and girl from Ten together before. If you don’t have me, you’ll be facing them alone.”

She could see in Sage’s eyes that she was wavering. Annie was right, this girl didn’t want to kill her.

“I wouldn’t be able hurt you,” said Annie. “That’s the truth. We were always going to be allies.”

Sage twisted her mouth and lowered her club.

“But I can’t trust you,” she said.

“You can. You can trust me. Just like I know I can trust you. Haven’t I already proved myself? I saw you that night in the arena, but I let you go. I protected you.”

Sage frowned. “You’re a Career. You’ll never be my ally.”

Annie’s lungs were being crushed by the girl’s weight. She tried to shift her position, but Sage shoved her back into the snow.

“You’re the Capitol’s little pet, prancing about half-naked on a horse,” said Sage. “Making them sad with your goo-goo stories about how no one liked you at school. I barely even went to school! I was out in the wheat fields, slaving over corn all day and going to bed with an empty belly.”

She put a hand on Annie’s throat, not choking her exactly, but with enough pressure to make her nervous.

“I saved your life - you should do the same for me,” Annie said. “That’s fair.”

The word seemed to ignite a fire in Sage’s eyes. “The Games aren’t fair, not to people like me!”

This was dangerous. They couldn’t afford to question the Hunger Games, not when the whole of Panem was watching them.

“Everyone has an equal shot at winning,” said Annie weakly, knowing the words sounded hollow. She might die – did it really matter what the Capitol thought of her now? But Annie knew it did. It always mattered. “Everyone starts with nothing, and then only the bravest and smartest survive. We have the chance to be known for something great.”

“Some more chance than others,” Sage hissed, but even that didn’t make her look fierce. She looked as confused and desperate as Annie felt. “You’ve been training for this your whole life. You Careers are better fed, stronger. The Capitol automatically wants to sponsor you. And then you band together and pick off the rest of us.”

Annie saw the Careers as Sage did, from an outsider’s perspective. The group seemed deadly, ruthless, beloved by the tyrants who held the Districts in a stranglehold. Not trustworthy. Sage was not going to show her any mercy.

“I’m sorry...” Annie said.

“But of course the Games are fair,” said Sage. “Except for us non-Careers. We’ve already lost.”

“Just let me go.”

“I can’t.”

Sage hesitated, then tightened her hands around Annie’s neck. Her expression was almost apologetic, which only made it more terrifying.

“Please...don’t...” whispered Annie, barely able to choke out the words.

“Shh,” whispered Sage. “Close your eyes.”

Annie felt her throat constrict. She scrabbled desperately, trying to push off Sage’s hands – _something._ There was a horrible gagging sound in her ears, as Sage continued to shush her. Annie wanted to kick, but her legs were weak. She was dying...dying... the moment dragging out forever and there was nothing she could do. Dark spots bloomed over her vision, eating up the light...

“You’re going to sleep-” Sage began.

But then her voice was drowned out by a horrendous, unearthly noise which swelled in Annie’s ears. It sounded like a trawler ship splitting in two. Sage let go of Annie’s neck, distracted by something behind them.

Annie twisted around to follow Sage’s gaze, her breath hitching in her raw throat.

The dam, which regulated the fall of water into the river, was cracking. Annie felt rather than heard the noise, which rumbled through her bones as the very fabric of the arena shifted. It was like the world was ending right in front of her eyes.

A huge cloud of spray filled the air, like a burst of powder. There was another titanic groan, and then a chunk of the dam fell away as water spilled out in a boundless deluge. The river below rippled, like a tablecloth being shaken out, and then swelled into something like a tidal wave.

Sage was already running in the opposite direction. Annie scrambled to her feet, her hair and face peppered with freshwater spray. She raced away from the river, with no idea of where to go. Would the trees give her shelter, or would they be dangerous if they were knocked over by the tide? Annie stumbled, unsure.

Another section of the dam was swept away by the relentless tide of water. Annie knew if she didn’t get to higher ground, she was going to die. She ran, heart pumping, barely looking at where she was going. A sheet of icy water smacked against her back. Annie shrieked, the force knocking her onto her front. Her abdomen screamed in pain. The water was beneath her now, but she struggled forwards. There was a tree branch just ahead of her.

Annie reached out her arm with difficulty. She just needed to grab it, and then she’d be safe. But the current was so strong, it kept tugging her in the wrong direction. She raised her arm again, straining every muscle to grab onto the tree. She was almost there – but her fingers closed around the air, just out of reach.

Then another wave of water crashed over her. The last thing she saw was the tree she had been trying to grab onto collapse, just as the water sucked Annie under the surface and into the darkness below.


	14. Deluge

Finnick idly played with Galatea’s hair as he listened to her talk. She had insisted he come over for lunch, and because he’d been putting her off for two days he felt he’d run out of reasonable excuses. They lay in a sweaty, post-coital heap on her bed as she explained all about her complicated divorce – which had started with her husband sleeping with their daughter’s nanny, and only gotten messier after that. From the way she spoke, he imagined that there were few people in this woman’s life who listened to her with their full attention.

He traced her lip with his finger. “You know nothing that happened was your fault, don’t you?”

That was what Galatea wanted to hear, but it was also the truth. Her husband sounded like a waste of space, and she was probably better off without him.

“Sometimes it feels like it was,” she said softly.

Finnick’s communicator buzzed. Peggy had the worst timing.

“Sorry,” he screwed up his face apologetically. “Do you mind...?”

“Of course not. You’re busy, I know.”

Finnick hopped out of bed as he answered the call.

“Where are you?” hissed Peggy.

Finnick felt his stomach drop. “Is Annie –?”

“Why aren’t you in the Mentors Centre?”

“I had to nip out to meet a sponsor,” he said, lowering his voice. Finnick scanned the room for the television remote.

“What are you looking for?” mouthed Galatea, throwing on her robe.

He impatiently mimed switching on the television.

“Well, get here now,” said Peggy. “Honestly, Finnick!”

“Just tell me what happened,” he said.

Galatea switched on the television. Finnick braced himself to see Annie dead, but instead he saw water pouring out of the half-broken dam.

“Peggy, what happened?” he half-shouted down the phone.

“The arena’s flooding. Finnick, you should be here.”

“I’m on my way.”

He shut off the communicator and hunted for his clothes. Galatea hovered behind him.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Do I look alright?” Finnick snapped. He couldn’t do this. Even simple tasks like finding his clothes seemed too overwhelming. “I just don’t – I tried so hard...”

“Finnick, you did your absolute best for that girl... I’m sorry.” Galatea put a sympathetic arm on his shoulder. He pulled away sharply.

“Stop talking like she’s dead. She’s not. Annie never runs out of ways to surprise me.”

Galatea jerked her head, offended. Finnick knew he should apologise, but he couldn’t force himself to care about her hurt feelings when at this very moment Annie might be drowning.

“I have done _everything._ She has to come back,” he said. “ _Where is my shirt?”_

Finnick pressed his knuckles to his eyes. Annie needed him to hold it together. But they had come so close, and now it would probably all be for nothing...

Galatea was looking at him, frowning. “Sometimes things like this just happen. Finnick, don’t cry. There’s no point in blaming yourself.”

“I’m not crying.”

She retrieved the rest of his clothes, and handed them to him silently. Finnick dressed quickly, avoiding looking her in the eye. Who was she to accuse him of being too emotionally invested in his tribute? That just showed she didn’t know him at all. 

“Was Annie the reason you came here?” she said.

“What?”

“I think you wanted medicine for that girl, and you were prepared to put on quite a show to get it,” said Galatea slowly. “Well, you got what you came for.”

Finnick knew he had to get to the Mentors Centre, if Annie was still alive. He was tempted just to go and leave Galatea to cool off, but he didn’t need another person in the Capitol who wished he were dead.

“You’ve got it all wrong,” he tried to put his arms around her, but she pushed him away.

“It’s so obvious, I can’t believe I fell for it.” Galatea angrily wiped tears out of her eyes.

“You know, I don’t have time for this,” Finnick threw on his jacket.

“Where are you going?”

“The Mentors Centre. In case you haven’t noticed, the arena’s been flooded.”

“You’re not... you can’t. What about me?”

Finnick turned from the door to look at Galatea, as tears brimmed in her eyes. She wasn’t crying for effect – or at least, he didn’t think so. Those tears were genuine. He felt a twinge of guilt, which made him doubly angry with Galatea because he’d had no choice but to use her. Perhaps another mentor – someone with brains like Peggy – could have found another way to raise the money. But he could only use the assets he had, which included the fact that he was Finnick Odair. Maybe it didn’t put him on the moral high ground, but it had at least kept Annie alive... well, until the Gamemakers had decided to turn the arena into a swimming pool.

“It’s not my fault,” he said. “What else was I supposed to do? She was dying and I needed the medicine.”

“You could have just asked.”

“You wouldn’t have given it to me any other way.”

They stared at each other. Finnick wished she’d slap him or kick him out of her apartment. _Something._ But she just looked at him.

Finnick left the room, hoping that would be the end of it and now he could focus on Annie. But Galatea followed him.

“You really were prepared to make _every_ sacrifice for her, weren’t you?” she said.

“I promised her mother-”

“ _Please,_ Finnick. You love her. It’s written all over your face.”

“ _Love_ Annie?” He scoffed nervously, the sound harsh and strained.

Galatea put her fingers to her temples, just as she did when a shoot was running behind schedule. “Finnick, I would actually respect you more if you would just tell the truth. You already got what you wanted from me.”

“I don’t love anyone, and _definitely_ not Annie. She’s my tribute, that’s all.”

Galatea stared at him. “You don’t even know...”

At this point, Finnick would do anything to stop her from accusing him of having feelings for Annie. “Galatea, you have no idea. For me, love is – and always will be – a transaction.”

She pressed her hand to her mouth, eyes full, too overwhelmed to speak.

“It’s not my fault,” he said again.

Finnick called the elevator, desperate to escape.

“If you leave now, don’t even think about coming back,” she said.

The words were probably supposed to be threatening, but they just sounded forlorn.

Finnick pressed the button to go down. He got one last glimpse of Galatea’s tear-streaked face before the doors slid shut.

Once he was down on the ground floor, Finnick bolted out of the apartment and onto the street. He couldn’t afford to wait for a taxi, so he sprinted in the direction of the Mentors Centre on foot. There was no way Annie could die now, not when they had come so close to getting her out of the arena...

He raced into the main hall. Mentors from the Districts still in the Games – Three, Nine and Ten – were standing about in confusion, whispering to each other. The screens dotted around the room all showed the flooding, which looked even worse than it had done earlier. Finnick ran to his computer and pulled up the tribute monitor. Annie’s heartbeat was still hanging on.

“How did it happen?” he asked Peggy.

“The girl from Six found Annie. They had a scrap – I was trying to find you – then there was an earthquake and the dam broke.”

Finnick flicked through the cameras, looking for Annie. Most of them just showed blurred shots of water, and occasionally trees snapping under the force of the current.

“This is pointless,” Finnick said, exasperated. “How am I supposed to do anything if I can’t even see her?”

Peggy took his place, and began methodically looking through the cameras.

“I don’t understand – is this meant to be the dramatic climax?” he said. “It’s not exactly great television.”

Both tributes from Three had already drowned, leaving only four to compete. This wasn’t the Gamemakers’ style. Obviously everyone knew that the Capitol could kill all twenty-four teenagers with the flick of a switch. That wasn’t the point of the Games. They were supposed to be about making the tributes kill each other.

Peggy leaned in and spoke quietly. “The tribute from Nine was spouting rubbish – about the Games being unfair. About being from a disadvantaged District.”

So the Gamemakers’ attempts to silence her had gotten out of control.

“Idiot!” Finnick hissed. “If Annie dies because of her...”

He left the threat unfinished because there was nothing he could do. Annie, the girl from Nine, the tributes from Ten, were all trapped in a glass snow globe, rapidly filling with water. All he could do was watch and hope.

Finnick checked the tribute monitor again. Annie was still alive.

“Have you found her?” he asked Peggy.

“No.”

“What happens if they all drown?”

Finnick wished he hadn’t said that. His voice sounded wrong, too small and anxious. Mentors were supposed to be objective and professional, hunting for the best strategy without being muddled by emotions. Before this year, Finnick hadn’t had any problems staying detached.

“That won’t happen,” said Peggy. “The Capitol needs a victor, even if they have to resuscitate one.”

Finnick looked at the dark screens filled with rushing water, debris and not a lot else. He pushed back his hair, nervous laughter bubbling from his mouth. Several of the other mentors cast him dirty looks.

“Sorry,” said Finnick. “I don’t...”

“You’re tired,” said Peggy.

“It’s just...these two weeks. Everything I did... I mean, we’re the fishing District. Most of us learn to swim before we can walk. She could at least have the decency not to drown!”

Another cannon fired. A tribute, somewhere, was dead. This flood was turning into a bloodbath.

“She’s not – we don’t know,” she said. “You have to be patient.”

“But I...” Finnick knew he couldn’t tell Peggy about the things he had done to keep Annie alive, but for a moment he wished he could. He wanted Peggy to know that he had been a good mentor, even if his methods were a bit unorthodox.

His chest burned. Finnick remembered the tears falling down Galatea’s face as he left the apartment. It hadn’t been his finest hour, and now Annie was probably going to die anyway. As for Galatea’s suggestion that he... it was ridiculous. Annie was just a girl from his District. Well, no. She wasn’t. But that didn’t mean he was in love with her. At the moment, his whole existence was consumed with keeping Annie alive. It was almost guaranteed to make things a bit muddled.

He threw himself into a chair, bristling with energy. He just felt so useless. If only there was someone here who would start a fight with him. Perhaps one of the other victors would be sore enough about losing their tribute. It would feel good to have a black eye or some scuffed knuckles.

“Finnick?”

“What?” He asked, not looking up.

“I found her.”

He threw himself towards the screen. There she was, a small speck in a swirling mass of grey water. She was swimming towards one of the only trees which had been left standing in the flood. Her progress was slow, as she was buffeted every way by the current, but her determination was obvious.

Finnick felt his chest swell as he watched Annie grab onto a branch and haul herself out of the water. She was bedraggled but she didn’t look injured, at least nothing serious. Annie wrapped her arms tightly around the trunk, safely out of the water’s reach – for now. Finnick smiled. Everything he’d done to keep her alive had been worth it.

“Well done Annie,” he said, a grin spreading over his face.

He quickly switched to a more neutral expression when Peggy glanced at him. Publically gushing over people wasn’t his style.

“How many are left, apart from her?” he asked.

Peggy switched to the tribute monitor. “Just the one.”

The odds of getting Annie back had never been higher.

* * *

Annie hung grimly onto the tree, though she was shivering so much she felt like her arms would let go at any moment. She risked a quick glance below her. Were the water levels getting lower, or was that just her imagination?

Every part of her was wet and grimy, and she felt chilled right through her body. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably, and there was a horrible noise inside her head, like the roar of the water was magnified a hundred times. Her tree juddered, and seemed to sink slightly. Annie gripped her arms around the trunk doubly tight. It couldn’t collapse now. If she went back under, she was so cold and tired and fragile she knew she wouldn’t be able to make it.

Another tree up ahead collapsed into the water, and Annie heard an unmistakable scream. Sage, or someone else? Annie had no idea. She didn’t even know who was left. While she’d been swimming, she thought she’d heard the cannon fire, but there had been so much noise and confusion she couldn’t be sure of anything.

Annie pressed her head to the tree, willing it to hold. She glanced down, and saw that the water level was definitely lower than before. Annie felt her stomach twist as the tree began to lurch downwards, and braced herself as she hit the water. For a moment she was weightless, then her hands hit the ground, jarring her arms. She struggled to her feet, waist-deep in muddy water, the current threatening to knock her over at any moment.

Annie pushed her wet hair out of her eyes. She needed to find somewhere safe, preferably on higher ground in case the Gamemakers hadn’t finished drying to drown everyone. As Annie waded through the water, she thought she heard a cry. But it couldn’t be real. It blended too neatly into her memories of Calpurnia and Valencia screaming for help as they died.

 _Don’t think about that,_ Annie told herself firmly.

The list of things she wasn’t allowed to think about was getting longer by the moment. At least when she had been with Glynn there was someone to talk to, even if he wasn’t very responsive. Now Annie had no one, her head kept filling up the silence with ugly memories of death and blood.

But as Annie pressed onwards through the weight of water, the sounds continued, too sharp to be a memory. Someone was out there. Annie cautiously followed the noise, ready to run if she had to.

The body was lying on a clump of rocks, like a discarded toy. Annie crept closer and saw the face, the bedraggled mop of curls. It couldn’t be Sage, that was too unfair. But as the tribute from Nine had reminded her, the Games _weren’t_ fair. Sage’s head was soaked in blood from a nasty gash on her temple. She looked so battered and weak that she clearly wasn’t a threat. Annie should go, and leave the half-drowned girl to her fate. She probably wouldn’t last much longer – but whatever happened to her, it wouldn’t be on Annie’s conscience.

But Annie wanted to go home...

She picked up a sizeable rock, felt the solid weight in her hands. As Annie clambered up to where Sage was lying, the girl’s eyes opened. If Annie had been able to run, she would have done, but her legs wouldn’t move. Sage looked up at Annie, her dark liquid eyes containing nothing but fear.

“Help...” Sage weakly tried to reach out her arm, then let it drop back down.

But Annie couldn’t forget those panicked moments when she’d been pinned to the ground, Sage’s hands tight around her neck. She’d thought she was going to die. And she knew that she would never be safe while this girl was still alive.

Sage’s face crumpled when she saw Annie lift the rock with both hands. But she didn’t cry, and she didn’t beg Annie to spare her life. Something about Sage reminded Annie of that girl – Pip – who Calpurnia had ordered her to finish off. Annie hadn’t been able to do it then, she had been too weak. She still was weak, but no longer naïve. Now she already had blood on her hands, she didn’t need to fight to save her innocence.

Annie couldn’t stand looking at Sage’s frightened expression any more. She brought the rock down on the girl’s head, again and again until her face was such a mess of blood that it could have been anyone at all.


	15. Here

“But you don’t understand – I need to see her,” insisted Finnick.

The doctor raised her eyebrows, unimpressed. Finnick tried to dial down the aggression.

“Can you tell me when I’ll be able to go in?”

“Come back tomorrow.”

“But-”

“She’s still sedated.”

“Can’t I look in on her for a minute? I am her mentor-”

“Come back tomorrow.”

He was tempted to try a different doctor, but Peggy pulled him away. “Finnick, let’s go. We’ll just be in the way here.”

Finnick followed Peggy out of the hospital ward reluctantly. He hadn’t been able to wrangle his way onto the hovercraft which brought Annie back to the Capitol, so he hadn’t seen her in real life since she’d won. And Finnick knew that he wouldn’t fully be able to believe that Annie was safe until he could touch her hand with his. Annie was his tribute, after all. His responsibility. And, why not admit it, someone he cared about – though obviously not in the way Galatea had suggested.

The idea of him being in love with Annie, or anyone else, was absurd. Snow sold Finnick’s love for exorbitant amounts of money. Why would Finnick just give it away for free? No, love for him would always be business, not pleasure. But he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t care about Annie. After all, days of constant worrying about her were bound to leave some sort of imprint on him, the way the tide gradually wears out a stone.

The next day, Finnick managed to persuade Peggy not to go with him to the hospital. He wanted his first meeting with Annie to happen without an audience. On the way, Finnick bought a small bouquet with petals the colour of mist. He had a vague memory of Annie coming to school with flowers woven in her hair on festival day. But maybe she had outgrown them, Finnick had no idea. It was strange how little he really knew her.

A different doctor was on duty at the hospital. He asked Finnick to wait a few minutes. “Annabelle is just having breakfast.”

Finnick sat on a chair, his legs itching with nerves. He wanted to pace the corridor to wear off the tight, uncomfortable feeling in his body, but that would make him look anxious. Finnick was just a mentor about to be reunited with his tribute. Nothing to be nervous about.

He imagined Annie’s tearfully grateful face, the way she’d throw her arms around him and rest her head on his chest – strictly platonically, of course. Finnick mentally rehearsed how he would react, casually brushing aside her thanks, giving her a brotherly kiss on the forehead.

A nurse emerged from Annie’s room. “You can go in. But I think you should know...”

“What?” said Finnick impatiently.

“She isn’t fully recovered yet.”

Well, did _anyone_ fully recover from the Games?

The first thing he saw was that Annie’s bed was empty. For a moment, Finnick stopped breathing. Then he realised she was sitting on the floor in the corner of the room, leaning her head against the wall. Finnick exhaled. It would help if he could stop being so melodramatic. He made sure his face was absolutely calm before speaking.

“Hello Annie.”

She didn’t look over, or give any sign that she’d heard him.

“Annie...” Finnick put the bouquet to one side and crouched down next to her.

When he touched her shoulder, her pale skin felt clammy like a corpse. She didn’t push him away, but she shrank slightly from his touch. He quickly removed his hand.

“Go away,” she said quietly, without looking at him.

Finnick refused to be worried. The first few days of out the arena were difficult, he knew that from first-hand experience. You had seen – and done – the worst things, but you had to pretend that the whole experience had been a thrilling adventure.

“It’s over,” he said. “You did well.”

“When I smashed that girl’s head in with a rock?” she said, still not looking at him.

“You did what you had to. None of it was your fault.”

Annie tightened her arms around her knees. The weeks in the arena has taken an enormous physical toll on her. She had a necklace of bruises around her throat from Sage’s attack. Annie's body was all sharp angles, and her bones seemed about to break through her translucent skin. Finnick knew that she was lucky, that many victors came out of the Games with far worse injuries, but it was still pretty unbearable to see her like this. If only there was a way to protect her from everything: the Capitol, President Snow, the Victory Tour, the future.

Finnick’s throat grew tight. She seemed so small and vulnerable, like a bird whose feathers had been plucked. He didn’t want a ‘thank you’ from her – that was expecting too much, considering the state she was in. All he wanted was a smile, a look, just a flicker of the old Annie so he knew she was still in there somewhere.

“The first thing I always do when I get off the train is go for a swim. Wash off the Capitol cologne...” he said. “I bet your mother can’t wait to have you back with her.”

But even that didn’t brighten Annie’s eyes. Finnick pushed her hair back from her face. It had clearly been brushed by some attentive nurse, and fell limply around her shoulders.

“Your hair’s going to grow back,” he said.

Annie’s eyes turned to him. They were glassy. She looked at him like he was a stranger.

Finnick almost bolted out the room, but he knew he had to stay. Annie was still his responsibility. He didn’t know what to do. The only thing Finnick was good at was charming Capitol socialites – he didn’t have the grit or the substance or whatever it was he needed to help this girl. But he had to try. Finnick sat down next to her, hoping that maybe just staying with her quietly would help in some way.

“I didn’t want to do it,” she said in a small voice. “I just wanted to go home.”

He assumed she was talking about Sage’s death. Annie shivered and curled in on herself, even though the room was warm.

“Let’s get you back to bed,” said Finnick.

But the moment he touched Annie’s arm, she started shaking, every muscle in her body electrified with fear.

“Don’t kill him. _Please,”_ she sobbed.

“What?”

Then Finnick realised she thought she was still in the arena.

“No, Annie-”

“Glynn! Run!”

“The Games are over.”

He wanted to put his arms around her, to show her that she was safe and here and _with him,_ but he knew that would probably make it worse.

“Leave him alone,” she cried out.

Her screams became so high-pitched that he couldn’t understand what she was saying. She backed against the wall as if she genuinely thought he was going to hurt her.

“Annie!” Finnick’s voice came out sharper than he’d intended. She put her hands over her ears, clearly more frightened of him than ever. It was so typical of him, just coming in and making a situation ten times worse. “It’s me. It’s Finnick. I’m not going to hurt you, Annie. I promise...”

Two nurses burst into the room.

“She’s having another episode?” said one.

“She-”

The nurses didn’t wait for him to respond. They marched over to Annie, who seemed even more afraid of them than she was of Finnick. She shrank away from the nurses, hiding her face, but they grabbed her firmly and dragged her over to the bed.

“You’re going to scare her more,” said Finnick.

They both ignored him and pushed Annie onto the bed. One held her down, while the other prepared an injection.

Finnick put himself between the nurse and Annie. “What’s that?”

“Just something to help her sleep,” the nurse pushed him aside.

Annie cringed when she saw the needle, screwing up her body protectively. She didn’t try to escape, but she was clearly terrified. Finnick couldn’t watch. He backed out of the room and left her with the nurses. Her screams carried all the way down the corridor.

He walked back to the Tribute Centre in a daze, barely looking at the pavement in front of him. The whole building was empty now, apart from the mentors. All those dead children, whose lives he had been willing to trade for Annie’s. Finnick was about to go up, but he couldn’t stand the idea of facing Peggy again. She was right – Finnick had been acting selfishly, helping Annie to make himself feel like a hero, without thinking about the cost to his tribute. And he didn’t want her to know that.

Finnick went in search of a decent bar. This was the Capitol, so there was one just down the street. It was dark and crowded, full of hazy smoke from the hookah lamps that everyone was smoking this season. Most people in this place were high as kites, which suited Finnick just fine.

“What can I get you?” asked the bartender.

“Anything.”

Finnick knocked back two drinks without knowing or caring what was in them. There was this tightness in his chest which was almost suffocating, and he’d do anything to breathe normally again. This was the first year ever that he had successfully helped a tribute through the Games. He’d won – but it felt like he had lost.

Technically, he’d brought Annie back alive, but he could see from her eyes that she had been broken beyond repair. She was obviously tormented by the things that she’d done, and knowing Annie she wasn’t going to be able to forgive herself easily. He should have known that, because it was part of what made Annie so unique. All her best qualities – her defiance and her heart – were going to make it a hundred times harder to recover. And she hadn’t even recognised him...

He had thought he was being so noble, making sacrifices to bring her home. But they didn’t mean anything. So he had slept with another woman, lied to her and broken her heart? So what? Hadn’t he deceived dozens of people already? Finnick had tried to save Annie so that maybe he could stop despising himself, but it hadn’t worked. He was still a worthless, dirty person.

“Didn’t expect to see you here, kid.”

Finnick turned around and saw Haymitch Abernathy by the door. The victor from District 12 was still standing upright, so he must be fairly early in his drinking day. Most of the mentors didn’t like Haymitch because he was rough and blunt and well...obviously an alcoholic. But Finnick almost respected the way Haymitch didn’t give a damn about what anyone thought. And how little he cared about adopting the Capitol’s airs and graces.

Finnick swallowed, and then turned on his most arrogant grin. “Just basking in my own brilliance.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Haymitch, sliding onto the barstool next to Finnick. “Don’t get too used to it, pretty boy. I’m sure your tribute next year will be the first to die.”

Haymitch motioned to the bartender to bring more alcohol for the both of them. Finnick drank whatever was put in front of him, even though it was making him unpleasantly tipsy.

“It was pointless anyway. The Games have destroyed her,” said Finnick.

“Annie?”

Finnick quickly tried to cover his bitterness. He shrugged nonchalantly. “Well, you win some, you lose some, as the saying goes. Apart from District 12, who always lose.”

He thought he might have gone a bit too far, but Haymitch roared with laughter and ordered another round of shots. After all, what else could they do? They didn’t have a choice about whether they took part in the Games. It was either make a joke or completely lose the plot.

“You haven’t done too badly this year,” said Haymitch, slyly. “I counted five important people who you were getting pretty _friendly_ with.”

“Six,” said Finnick, remembering Galatea with a pang.

“You’re a complete dog,” Haymitch poured him another drink. “I bet there’s plenty in it for you, right?”

Finnick shrugged, and showed him the diamond-encrusted watch one of his patrons had given him. “Sold my soul for this. I think I overcharged. My soul isn’t worth that much.”

“Kid, no one’s soul is worth that much.”

Finnick downed the last shot. Keeping up with Haymitch was hard work; the man drank like it was a professional sport. Well, he supposed he’d had a lot of time to perfect his technique.

It wasn’t until they left the bar that Finnick realised quite how drunk he was. All the alcohol seemed to have pooled in the bottom of his stomach and turned to bile. His feet were mostly pretty steady, it was just his head which kept spinning like he was on a roundabout.

“Could we hold up a sec?” asked Finnick.

He leant against the wall and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He had just drunk a lot of alcohol to blot out his memories of Annie in the hospital, and he was not going to sick it up now.

“You OK?” asked Haymitch.

Finnick opened his eyes and shrugged.

Haymitch lowered his voice. “Annie will be alright in the end. She just needs to get used to it.”

Finnick thought if he spoke he’d probably start crying, so he just nodded. Haymitch didn’t know what he was talking about. He hadn’t heard Annie’s screams as the nurses wrestled her down onto the bed.

“Look,” Haymitch lowered his voice. Finnick could smell the rank alcohol on the other victor’s breath. “I figure you’re perhaps not all that happy with the way things are run.”

“In the Capitol?”

“Well, all I’m saying is that there are people out there who want to change things. And I’m sure they could use a bit of help from someone like you. If you know what I mean...”

What? _Haymitch_ was part of the resistance? Obviously Finnick had heard whispers of people from the Districts who wanted to overthrow the Capitol. But he never thought he’d actually meet someone involved, and definitely never thought that person would be a zany alcoholic with an attitude problem.

“Are you serious?” said Finnick.

Haymitch shrugged.

Finnick couldn’t believe he was even being asked. _Him._ Finnick Odair. He was the worst person in Panem to be involved in the resistance. Snow pulled his strings like he was a marionette. The only worthwhile thing Finnick had ever done was protect Annie, and he hadn’t even managed to get _that_ right.

“I’m not the right guy, Haymitch,” he said. “You know the Capitol own me.”

Finnick couldn’t look the other victor in the eye, because he couldn’t stand seeing Haymitch’s disappointment. Sticking his hands in his pockets, Finnick took off back to the Training Centre. The elevator was pretty nauseating, what with the fluorescent lights and the fact that it moved. Finnick swallowed carefully, concentrating on keeping the contents of his stomach off the floor.

When he got into the apartment, Peggy was waiting for him with Myron.

“Finnick...there you are,” she said.

“Have I missed something?”

“We were supposed to be talking about Annie’s dress for the interview.”

“Oh. That was this afternoon?”

“Yes, Finnick,” said Peggy, her voice strained.

“Right. Sorry.”

“How is she?” asked Peggy.

Finnick didn’t bother replying. He kicked off his shoes and threw himself on the couch.

“What did the doctor say?”

“There hasn’t been any permanent damage – well, not to her body, anyway.”

There was a long pause.

“Well, I think you’re going to love the design I’ve worked up,” said Myron. “This is my first chance to dress a victor. It’s a real honour.”

The stylist pulled out a sketch.

“What do you think?”

“It’s – good,” said Peggy, shooting Finnick a meaningful glance. This was supposed to be his area of expertise. How things looked.

“Yeah,” said Finnick, not bothering to contribute.

Peggy tried to hand him the drawing, but he kept his arms by his side.

“What do you think, Finnick?” she asked.

“I’m sure as long as it’s tight and covered with sequins the Capitol will like it.”

Myron’s smile shrank.

“But good luck trying to get Annie to wear it. Or do the interview. Because she’s a nervous wreck after being in that arena.”

“We’ll talk her round,” said Peggy.

Finnick snorted.

“Do you have any feedback you’d like me to incorporate?” asked Myron.

“You don’t need my input,” said Finnick.

He hadn’t meant to sound as rude as he did. It had just come out like that, and now Myron was looking at the floor as if Finnick had just killed his dog or something.

“You should go with whatever you think is best,” Peggy forced a smile. “I’m sure she’ll look great.”

As soon as Myron left, she rounded on Finnick. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“How bad is Annie really?”

“She doesn’t even know who I am. There’s no way I can get her through the interview.”

“You...” Peggy sighed. “Well can you try not to make the Capitol hate us?”

“I’m Finnick Odair,” he crossed his legs, knowing he was being supremely annoying but unable to stop himself. “Everybody loves me.”

Finnick managed to hold it together until Peggy left the room. Then he ran to the toilet and threw up all the alcohol which had been filling up his stomach.


	16. Display

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all,
> 
> Thank you so much for reading - I hope you're enjoying the story now we're on the home stretch. Just a disclaimer that the next few chapters will deal with some heavy mental health themes like PTSD, breakdowns and suicidal thoughts. Please proceed with caution if you think any of these topics will be triggering for you.
> 
> Emily

“You’re quite the man of the hour, you know.”

Finnick gave an affable, self-depreciating smile at the guest, who was wearing a deep blue brocade jacket and a smirk.

“We met at Juniper’s club last summer,” said Brocade Jacket. “I remember you were with the _gorgeous_ owner of that athletics wear brand.”

Finnick knew which patron the man was talking about. He couldn’t remember his name, but he could remember not being able to sit down for two days after their night together.

Brocade Jacket leant in and adjusted Finnick’s collar. “You seem to be developing quite the reputation. Tell me, what does one have to do to be part of your inner circle, hmmm?”

Thankfully, Maximus chose that moment to interrupt. “Here’s our champion!”

He clapped Finnick enthusiastically on the back. Peggy, who was at Maximus’ side, smiled stiffly. She wore her couture gown like it was a potato sack, and looked totally out of her depth among the Capitol elite. Finnick knew he fit right in with the other guests at the President’s garden party, which wasn’t exactly a pleasant thought.

“Why aren’t you drinking?” Maximus motioned a nearby waiter to pass out flutes of champagne. “Now the Games are over, you have no reason to be sober.”

Finnick took a glass to keep Maximus happy, but didn’t plan to drink any of it. He still had a headache which wouldn’t go away, no matter how many painkillers he took. Finnick refused to look Peggy in the eye, sure she’d be amused to see he was still suffering from yesterday’s binge.

“I can’t believe you managed to get her through it,” said Maximus. “I mean, _no one_ thought she was going to win. Not even me!”

“I placed a bet that she’d be the first in the Career pack to die... Still, I suppose being from District 4 gave her a bit of an advantage when the arena flooded,” said Brocade Jacket dryly.

“It was all down to Finnick’s brilliant mentoring,” Maximus was the only person who seemed genuinely enthusiastic about Annie’s win. “Talk about turning base metals into gold! And Peggy helped, of course.”

Peggy looked like she wanted to punch him. As she couldn’t disguise any of her emotions, it really would have been better to leave her at home.

“I do wish we’d had a few more memorable deaths this year,” said Brocade Jacket.

Luckily, the fireworks started before Finnick could hit back a sarcastic reply. As the other guests clapped and gasped over the display, Finnick tried to look like he was enjoying himself.

A waiter appeared at his elbow. “Sorry to disturb you, Mr Odair, but the President would like a word.”

Finnick stiffened. This was something to do with Annie, and it wasn’t going to be good. The waiter led him up to the terrace, where Snow was standing by himself, looking down on the party guests.

“This year’s Games were a disaster,” the president said, without preamble.

Finnick thought carefully before he answered. Dissent was dangerous, but agreeing might put Annie – or himself – in the firing line.

“They didn’t play out like they usually do,” Finnick said at last. “But Annie won the Games fairly. She killed for it, just like any other victor.”

“Knocking a senseless girl’s head off with a rock is hardly an exciting finale.”

“Well, maybe the Gamemakers shouldn’t have flooded the arena.”

“Yes. The people responsible have had that drawn to their attention.”

They were also probably now dead, Finnick assumed.

“The climax was so forgettable that no one is talking about Annie. You know what they _are_ talking about?”

Finnick thought he had an inkling, but decided to play dumb. He shook his head.

Snow put his champagne flute down on the marble balustrade sharply. “Don’t be coy with me, Mr Odair. Everyone knows.”

“They’re talking about the girl from Nine. The things she said before the arena was flooded.”

“Exactly. No one cares about a victor who won by chance.”

_Chance?_ Finnick swallowed down his irritation before he said something he’d regret. He was not going to be baited. Although outwardly Snow seemed his usual chilly self, Finnick could tell that the president was worried, which was bad news for Annie.

“What do you want me to do?” asked Finnick.

“Change the narrative.”

“How?”

“I thought that would be obvious, but of course you didn’t earn your victor’s crown with brains. We need to reframe Annie and Sage’s fight as a battle between two causes. The vicious traitor who is defeated by our golden girl, loyal to the Capitol. Do you think you can ensure that’s what we see tomorrow at the interview?”

Finnick remembered Annie’s fragile, trembling body with a pang.

“That might be difficult. Annie is still sick.”

“I heard from the mayor of District 4 today,” said Snow.

The sudden change of topic made Finnick prickle with unease. He watched the president cautiously.

Snow continued, “Did you know she was forced to put Annie’s mother in prison?”

“Prison?” Finnick echoed stupidly.

“Unfortunately, Mrs Cresta has been spouting all sorts of treason, saying the Capitol have been trying to murder her daughter.”

“She –”

“You know what the punishment is for that kind of behaviour?”

“Execution,” said Finnick, his stomach churning.

“Exactly,” the president said. “But if Annie does a truly exceptional interview, one that eclipses the underwhelming finale of the Games, I might be persuaded to pardon Mrs Cresta. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes,” said Finnick heavily. “I need to have the questions in advance so I can prepare Annie.”

“You’re not in a position to make demands, Mr Odair.”

Finnick felt his way carefully, trying to seem humble but useful but not _too_ smart. “That’s not what I meant. But you’ve given me a task and that is what I need to do it. We both want the same thing.”

There was a pause. Snow looked him up and down, with an almost amused expression on his face. “Very well. Caesar’s people will send the questions over to you first thing tomorrow. You may go.”

Finnick spent the rest of the evening trying to work out how he could make Annie perform tomorrow. If he failed, her mother’s life would be on the line. Why were these Cresta women all so self-destructive? And why were they always being made his responsibility?

* * *

The stylist gave a forceful tug as she laced up the tight bodice of the dress. Annie gasped, feeling her compressed lungs fight for air. She quickly closed her eyes and muttered that _she was alive, she was safe, she was here._ These days, Annie found she needed to remind herself of that a lot.

Annie tensed as she felt someone grab her shoulder. Startled, her eyes flew open but it was just Myron. He was turning her body about to check the fit of her bodice. There was no reason to act like he was going to hurt her.

“Look how tiny her waist is!” Myron laughed to the stylists. “The Games have been so good for her figure.”

When they had finished dressing her, they left without saying goodbye. People rarely bothered to speak to her now. They talked _about_ her, as if they thought she’d lost her hearing as well as everything else in the arena. But today Annie found that she only half-cared. This morning, the nurse had given her something to help steady her nerves, but all it seemed to have done was turn her brain to syrup.

In the mirror, Annie saw a gaunt, half-starved girl in a grotesquely beautiful dress reflected back at her. Was this really what she looked like now? Her stylists had dusted her with silver eyeshadow, but no amount of make-up could hide how changed she was. It was like the events of the arena were carved onto her face. No wonder everyone avoided looking at her. The eyes in her face seemed to have grown twice as large as before, and had a strange, hunted look within them.

Annie ran her hand over the bodice of her dress, decorated with sequins like the scales of a fish. It was strapless and dug in painfully underneath her armpits. Annie had never worn something so beautiful, or uncomfortable, in her whole life. The full, bell-shaped skirt was made from tiers and tiers of delicate organza in the palest aquamarine. It was impossible to tell the exact shade of the fabric, which shifted subtly as it caught the light as if she were dressed in a watercolour painting.

She stumbled, and rested her hand against the mirror to steady herself, leaving an ugly smear on the pristine, glassy surface. She couldn’t have a dizzy spell now, not when her interview was about to start. Finnick had spent all afternoon coaching her, explaining over and over how important it was.

But why was she here, with pearls and diamonds woven into her hair, when Glynn was dead? He was the one who deserved to win, not her. Glynn had a family to provide for, whereas she wasn’t important. Disgust welled up inside her, bigger and bigger until she felt like her head would explode. She needed to do something – whatever would make it go away. Annie raked her nails down her shoulders, across the bare skin above the neckline of her dress. She hated her body because it had survived, somehow, even though she wished it had been killed off in the arena like everything else.

“Annie?”

It was Finnick. His voice sounded accusatory, like usual. He was always angry with her now. Annie turned away, hoping he wouldn’t notice what she had done. Just being in the same room as him was enough to remind her of the night before the Games. She had basically thrown herself at him and he had been disgusted by her.

“Are you ready to go on? Caesar’s waiting to start the interview.”

Inevitably, Finnick spotted the livid red marks her nails had left on her skin. “Annie...?”

She knew he wanted her to say something, but she kept quiet. How could she explain what she had done?

Finnick sighed. He turned her towards him and dusted powder over her skin. His actions were completely mechanical, as if he were moving a mannequin. There was no hint of tenderness – not that Annie expected any from him. He didn’t want her, and neither did the Capitol. The only person who would be happy she was still alive was her mother.

“Stay still,” said Finnick, rearranging her hair so it fell over the scratches.

Annie’s stylists had woven extensions into her shorn crop of hair earlier today. Now, her curls almost looked the way they had done before the arena, except that they fell in too-perfect ringlets.

Annie couldn’t do this interview. How could she make the Capitol love her, when everyone had seen her killing a defenceless girl? A sob rose in her throat. She tried to swallow it, but Finnick saw her mouth trembling. He missed nothing.

“Annie, you need to stay calm. Please. This interview is so important.”

It wasn’t his words that irritated her as much as his expression. Something about his long-suffering, weary face made her patience snap.

“I know!” She swung around to face him. “You don’t need to keep telling me.”

She expected Finnick to shrug, as if to say it didn’t matter to him if she made a fool of herself, but instead he hit back an answer twice as furious as hers.

“It’s not just you who’s affected by this-”

“So your reputation as the Capitol’s favourite party boy might be dragged down by me?”

Annie couldn’t believe she had said those words out loud. They were spiteful, nothing like her – or at least nothing like who she wanted to be.

Finnick stared, his mouth parted slightly.

“You have no idea,” he said stiffly.

“All you care about is what they think. And they’re the ones who are doing this to us!”

Annie couldn’t control the tremors running through her body like an earthquake. She had never felt this angry before, but now she hated everything, particularly Finnick. She couldn’t explain why, but she felt like she might choke if she kept it bottled up any longer.

“The only thing I have thought about for weeks is you – how to get you out of that arena. I practically lived in the Mentors Centre during the Games.”

“You shouldn’t have bothered. I wish you’d let me die.”

“I always chose you, even though Peggy was convinced you’d never make it. Do you know what I had to do to get you that medicine?”

“Use money from my sponsors-”

“That only covered half of it. How do you think I got my hands on the rest?”

“I don’t know.”

Finnick was scaring her now. His usual lazy half-smile was gone, and now he had that same look in his eyes that Annie had seen in her own. Hunted.

“I’ll let you into a secret,” he said. “I had to find a wealthy Capitol woman and screw her until she agreed to pay for your medicine.”

“Stop it...”

Annie tried to get her slow, sludgy mind to understand what he’d just said. Finnick couldn’t be serious. If it were true, he wouldn’t just come out with it like this. He was trying to make her feel guilty so he could win the argument.

“So don’t tell me you weren’t worth it, because I threw away any self-respect I had left to save you. Obviously there were other women before that – other men too. But they were forced on me by Snow. I degraded _myself_ this time, and I did it because of you”

“Snow did..?”

“Of course, you don’t know. Our great and glorious leader has been auctioning me off ever since my sixteenth birthday.”

“To people in the Capitol? To...?”

“To fuck? Yes, generally. Or to sleep with, if you don’t want to be crude. I do everything, whatever they can dream up and have the money to pay for.”

Annie wished she had never spoken. She wished she’d never heard Finnick’s confession. What he had done, what he had sacrificed for her, was another debt that Annie owed, another bad thing weighing down her heart. And nothing she ever did could repay him.

She looked imploringly at Finnick, hoping he would take her silence as an apology. But he’d regained his usual aloof, slightly cold demeanour, and was back to looking handsome and untouchable.

“I’ve done my bit – now it’s up to you to put on a good show,” he said. “We’re all counting on you.”

As assistant popped her head around the door.

“Come on, my sweet. We’re about to go live.”

Annie felt her insides freeze. Finnick quietly said her name, but Annie followed the assistant without looking back at him. She didn’t know how she felt or what any of it meant. He wasn’t... it didn’t make sense. How could Snow do something like that to Finnick, the Capitol’s darling? But Annie knew Panem’s president could do whatever he liked. If Snow was capable of sending twenty three teenagers to their deaths each year, he was certainly capable of selling the body of one boy. Especially if there was a profit in it for him.

* * *

In the studio, Annie was herded behind a partition while her stylists fussed over her hair and make-up. Caesar Flickerman grinned at her as he took his seat onstage. He was probably trying to be friendly, but the way he leered with that white, plastic face was grotesque. Annie had forgotten all the answers to the questions which Finnick had rehearsed with her earlier. She didn’t know anything. Annie wanted to call for Finnick, but then she remembered his coldly furious eyes and she knew he wouldn’t help. Annie was on her own.

Caesar turned to the cameras and spoke animatedly. “Tonight we welcome back a brave young woman who has survived formidable tributes, deadly cold and the most devastating flood in the history of the Games. She may look adorable, but I promise you she’s utterly deadly. Ladies and gentleman – Annie Cresta!”

Annie took her place on the throne, smiling and blowing kisses like Finnick had told her to. She saw her mentor standing by one of the cameras, arms folded. Annie quickly looked away.

She managed to answer the first couple of questions properly, with the lines Finnick had given her. The interview was like a strange dream, everything around her was slightly out of focus, and the words were heavy on her tongue. She spoke about her time in the Career pack, hunting other tributes and being hunted by her supposed allies.

“So, I’m dying to ask about your most loyal friend in the arena...”

Annie pressed her lips together, scared that if she tried to talk she would be sick. The waves of nausea felt like they would split her stomach open. Why had Finnick done such a selfless thing for her? She didn’t deserve it...

“Annie?”

Caesar sounded impatient, though he hid it beneath a smile.

“What?” she asked.

“I was asking about Glynn...”

Annie spoke without hesitating this time. “Glynn was the bravest and most loyal ally – friend – and I owe him my life. I can’t believe he’s gone...”

She was getting through it. All Annie had to do was make the right sounds and she’d be allowed to go home...

“And then on the other end of the spectrum was Sage. What a shocking twist that was! She seemed so innocent, but in the end she was your deadliest rival. What was it like going up against someone so devious?”

Finnick had told her what to say. Annie knew the words, but it was so noisy and prickly inside her head. She twisted her hair, hoping that the pain would anchor her, stop her thoughts from fragmenting.

“She was – bad,” Annie’s tongue was so clumsy. Finnick had explained to her exactly what the Capitol wanted to hear. But Annie couldn’t force Finnick’s words out of her mouth because they weren’t true.

“I thought – I wish I could have helped her,” she said.

“That was at the beginning, wasn’t it? You hoped she could be an ally... After all, you did save her from the Careers that first night in the arena. And then she threw it back in your face!”

“Yes...” Annie whispered, but her own voice sounded distant and quiet. “She was so...I thought...”

Caesar spoke again, but Annie had to concentrate on holding the pieces of her mind together. So many people were relying on her to get this right.

“Annie, do you want to tell us what it was like to win?”

She was hit by a sudden flash of Sage’s face, the mess of blood after she had beaten her with the rock. Hot tears blurred Annie’s vision. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t...

Caesar’s voice sounded far away, like they were both trapped underwater. He was talking and talking, and she knew he was asking her questions but she couldn’t hear and she didn’t know the answers and... Annie forced herself to stop thinking. She whispered that she was alive, she was safe, she was here. Annie had to follow Finnick’s instructions. She fixed her eyes on Caesar and made herself hear him.

“...We prepared a surprise for you today. You’re about to be reunited with someone, Annie, and you’ll never guess who.”

Annie tried to blink back her tears, sure that they had brought her mother to the Capitol. She stood, eager to be in the arms of someone who loved her straightforwardly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Finnick look up from the monitor, surprised.

One of the crewmembers led a white horse onto the set. Annie was too confused to speak, then she remembered the tribute parade. The horse she had ridden to safety, alongside Glynn who was dead now. Annie started crying, the sobs wracking her whole body and leaving her breathless. She needed her mother.

“I can see this is a bit of an emotional reunion,” grinned Caesar. “Do you want to tell us...?”

Annie shook her head and hid her face in the horse’s mane. It was safe from the Capitol here, and they couldn’t see her cry. She was a disappointment – to them, to Finnick, to the whole of Panem. Annie should have defended Sage, explained that the girl from Nine hadn’t been treacherous, she had just been desperate.

“Your ride through the streets in the Capitol was so iconic,” said Caesar. “What was going through your mind?”

Sage was right, Annie hadn’t deserved to live. That was why Annie had won in the end, because she was bad and weak, and nothing good ever survives the Games. Annie had killed and killed because she’d wanted to live, but she was just dying slower than the other tributes.

“There’s no need to be bashful, Annie. You’re among friends.”

She was among people who would happily have watched her die.

Caesar continued to speak to her, but Annie kept her face hidden. Eventually, she heard Finnick’s voice.

“Alright, I think the interview’s over now.”

Annie heard someone call cut.

“You know what? I really can’t work surrounded by these vibes,” said Caesar.

There was a terrible slam. Annie looked up, a jolt of fear running through her body. Then she saw it was just Caesar knocking his chair over as he stood up. A crew member came over with an exotically coloured drink. The presenter waved him away.

“I’m not asking for much, I’m really not,” Caesar was tearing up. “But I do expect a certain level of respect in the working environment. I’m not a machine. I can’t manufacture emotion when I’m opposite that ball of negative energy.”

Caesar swept off, leaving Annie alone on the set. She accidentally caught Finnick’s eye. He was standing with his arms folded, looking at her. His face said everything – that the interview had gone badly, that he was ashamed and disgusted by her, that Annie had failed again.


	17. The Return

Finnick packed the last of his things and zipped up the bag with difficulty. The Capitol always foisted so many gifts on him that he ended up coming home with twice as much stuff as he left with. He gave all the presents away as soon as he got back. Finnick didn’t need any mementos – he remembered his patrons too vividly without them.

Had Galatea got the flowers yet? He sent them to her apartment yesterday, so she presumably must have seen them by now. Not that he was expecting a response. She’d ignored all his attempts to contact her, so he’d ordered the bouquet as a last-ditch resort. Finnick agonised over the note for hours, but in the end he’d only written two words: _I’m sorry._

And he was. In the days following their argument, he’d tried to convince himself that Galatea was a cruel, manipulative woman who had used him as much as he’d used her, but eventually he’d realised he was deluding himself. She was just a lonely woman desperate for affection, and he’d taken advantage of her generosity to save Annie. He didn’t regret it, and he knew that he would make the same decision if he were faced with the choice again, but that didn’t mean he liked what he’d done.

Peggy knocked on the half-open door. “Are you ready to go?”

Finnick saw that the watch he’d been gifted was still on his bedside table. “Almost...”

He grabbed it. Peggy raised her eyebrows. “Nice bracelet.”

“It’s not a bracelet.” Finnick stuffed it into his bag. “Where’s Annie?”

“Still packing. Have the two of you fallen out?”

“No. What do you mean, ‘fallen out’?”

“Nothing. But the two of you seemed to get on so well, and now...”

Finnick prickled. _Another_ person accusing him of having feelings for Annie? This was turning into a conspiracy. “Well, the Games tend to put things in a new perspective.”

“I know.”

There was a pause. Finnick was ready to leave, but he got the feeling that Peggy had more she wanted to say, so he stayed put and pretended to adjust the strap of his bag.

“I keep thinking that being a mentor will get easier, but it doesn’t,” she said, not meeting his eyes. “Well, I guess at least we have a whole year until it starts again.”

“Sorry about Glynn,” said Finnick tentatively, unsure whether she’d welcome his sympathy. “He was decent guy, in the end.”

Peggy smiled sadly, “Yes, he was. I really thought I’d be able to get him through it but... it didn’t happen. It’s funny, you think you have so much control as a mentor, but it’s mostly just luck, isn’t it?”

Finnick knew that all too well.

Peggy took off her glasses and cleaned them on the corner of her shirt. Her undisguised sadness was disarming, and made it even more difficult for him to keep on his careless attitude.

“Thanks for helping with Annie,” he said. “I’d never have managed it by myself.”

“I didn’t do anything really. And I shouldn’t have suggested that we abandon her. At the time it seemed like...” Peggy swallowed and put her glasses back on. “You were right to have faith in her.”

Finnick shrugged, not trusting himself to speak.

“And I think I know what you had to do to get that medicine,” she continued. “It was really brave. I couldn’t have done something like that.”

“I couldn’t do anything else.”

“I used to think... well, I didn’t think much of you. But I see now that I was wrong.”

Finnick didn’t know what to say. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I know you’re one of us, really. Not one of them.”

Finnick wished that Peggy’s words were true.

“We should go,” he said. “The sooner we get home, the better.”

Finnick followed her out of the room. More than anything, he wanted to get away from the Capitol, though he had no idea what they were going to find when they got back. He couldn’t lie to himself, Annie’s interview hadn’t been great. But Finnick hadn’t received a summons to the president’s mansion, so perhaps it had been enough to get by. They would find the answer back to District 4, if Snow didn’t have them all executed before they got on the train. And then, hopefully, Annie could go back to her mother, who Finnick was sure would be a hundred times more capable of caring for her daughter than he was.

* * *

As Annie stepped down from the train, she was battered by the disorienting flashes of the cameras.

“Annie! Annie! Annie!” they shouted her name incessantly.

For a moment, the sounds were like firing cannons, tugging her back into the arena. But only for a moment. Annie swallowed hard, then walked forwards, one foot in front of the other. Finnick put a hand on her arm to guide her towards the exit.

But there was a pair of well-polished shoes in the way. Annie looked up. It was Mayor Weatherford, her face the usual mix of concern and determined professionalism.

“Welcome home, Annie,” she said.

Annie nodded. What did the mayor want?

“I’ve come to invite you for lunch, as a celebration of your homecoming.”

“I want to go – I want to see my mother.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Finnick said to the mayor. “I know Annie would love to – tomorrow?”

“It has to be today. If you don’t mind?”

Annie shrugged and nodded, seeing there would be no point in trying to argue.

As she sat in the car, it dawned on Annie that something was very wrong. Her mother should have been the first person she saw when she got off the train. Annie knew there was no way on earth that her mother wouldn’t have wanted to be there, unless she had been stopped from going. Annie glanced at Finnick, wanting to confide her fears in him so that he could tell her she was being overdramatic. But Finnick was looking distractedly out of the window. He didn’t care about her, and Annie refused to be pathetic or desperate by clinging onto him for support.

When they arrived at the mayor’s house, Annie was offered tea and sandwiches whilst Mrs Weatherford took Finnick into another room. She guessed they were discussing who should break the news to her.

Annie tried to eat a sandwich, but it tasted like flavourless pulp in her mouth. Maybe she was wrong. But if her mother was alright, why wasn’t she here?

Finnick opened the door. The way he walked – as if he were shouldering a terrible weight – told her it was bad news. Annie felt her heart stop. She wondered if it would be possible for her just to die on the spot.

“Annie, I have to talk to you,” said Finnick, his eyes barely meeting her face.

“What have they done to her?”

“How did you...?”

“Because she’s not here.”

Annie wasn’t crying, which was strange. She should be sobbing so hard she couldn’t speak or even think. Maybe you could only be sad so many times, and then you just couldn’t feel another loss. It felt like she was failing her mother all over again.

Finnick seated himself opposite her. She wished he would hold her, or do something instead of just sitting there as if he were about to interview her.

“She’s gone. I’m sorry,” he said at last.

“Was it because of me?”

“No! No, Annie. You can’t say that.”

“I didn’t put on a good enough show.”

“You... Mrs Weatherford said your mother was overheard speaking treason about the Capitol –”

“And they killed her for that? I don’t believe it.”

“Why don’t we go somewhere else? We can talk about it without being disturbed.” Finnick reached out and took Annie’s hands.

“You think I’m afraid of the Capitol? Because I’m not!”

“Annie, please. Be careful what you say.”

She yanked her hands out of his. She couldn’t stand being touched and prodded by all these people. This was her body.

An agonised scream filled the room. The voice was distorted, but Annie recognised it.

“Mama?”

Finnick stared at her with wide eyes.

“She’s here!” Annie grabbed him because he wasn’t moving, wasn’t doing anything to help. “She’s not dead. They’ve got her and we need to...”

“What’s –”

“They’re hurting her. Come on, Finnick! I can hear her voice. You can too, can’t you?”

There was a pause. The screaming had stopped, leaving the house terrifyingly quiet.

“Annie,” Finnick’s voice was gentle and full of pity. It was unbearable to listen to. “There’s no one speaking. She’s dead, Annie. I’m sorry.”

Annie let go of Finnick. She tried to stand straight and look normal. No crying, no hysterics. She was a calm and perfectly normal young woman, and she was going to find some way to stop her body from shaking.

“Where’s my mother’s body? I want to see her.”

“She’s...”

“What?”

“She’s already been buried.”

Annie stopped moving.

They had taken her mother already, put her away, silenced her. Of course they had. Anything in the Districts which was good had to be ruined or brought back under their control.

Her temples ached. Annie put a hand to her head, wishing there was a way to knock in her skull so the pain would go away. Finnick’s face was swimming before her eyes. Annie tried to tell herself that _she was alive, she was safe..._ but the floor was rocking beneath her. She stumbled, and found her legs were crumpling beneath her.

Finnick tried to grab her, and they both ended up on their knees, tangled together. Annie tried to pull away, but she couldn’t get free and he was grabbing her and she didn’t like it. Without thinking, Annie smacked him.

Finnick jerked back, letting go of her arms. Annie felt her palm sting painfully.

“I...”

She hadn’t meant to hurt him. It had been an accident... at least, she thought it had been. Annie clenched her hands in her lap tightly so she couldn’t do anything else wrong. Finnick blinked slowly and made a motion to touch his face, then forced his hand back down. Annie remembered a bedraggled stray dog which used to hang around her school, until one of the boys kicked it in the head. The wounded but unsurprised look in its eyes was exactly the same as what she saw in Finnick’s. And it was her fault.

Finnick make a visible effort to hide his hurt expression. And that was more heart-breaking than anything else.

Annie wanted to apologise. But what could she say? Nothing could justify what she had just done. She was a bad person. Evil. She had done terrible things in the arena, and now they had stuck to her, and she was going to carry on doing terrible things and there was no way out.

She got up, slightly unsteadily. Finnick did the same, his eyes never leaving her face. He was probably worried she would lash out at him again.

“Where did they put her?” she said at last, her voice quiet and dry.

“The old cemetery on the hill.”

Annie turned to the door.

“Wait –” Finnick made half a motion to follow her.

“What?”

“Don’t go there now. Wait until tomorrow.”

She couldn’t stand being near to him. He shouldn’t be kind to her, after what she had done. She had to get away and find somewhere she could breathe.

“Trust me, Annie. Don’t go now.”

“I have to.”

“Then I’ll come with you. You shouldn’t be alone.”

“No,” Annie frantically sought a reason. “You don’t – I don’t want you spying on me.”

“What?”

“We both know you belong to the Capitol.”

Annie looked at Finnick just long enough to see that her words had hurt him like she’d planned, then she ran for the door. She had done it. Detonated their friendship – or partnership, or whatever you could call what they were to each other. He was not going to come after her, not now or ever again.

* * *

It was late afternoon by the time Annie found her mother’s grave, and the sun was turning the clouds a delicate pink. The old cemetery was a rambling confusion of mismatched headstones, divided by a winding, overgrown path. It was so full that it had barely been used for at least thirty years. Annie didn’t imagine many people came here at all now, judging from the worn, ill-kempt gravestones and straggling weeds. Presumably that was why they had buried her mother here – it was easier to pretend she had never existed that way.

The grave was half-sheltered by a twisted tree, which had been bent by the fierce sea winds. This was her mother’s last home. Annie knew she should be angry, but instead she just felt very tired. She sat down heavily, slipping her fingers into the damp, churned up earth, a start contrast to the overgrown grass in the rest of the cemetery.

Annie tried to fill her head with a good memory of her mother – playing the piano or teaching her how to weave fishnets, but her mind kept going back to the reaping. The way she had refused her mother’s kiss on the cheek as she’d lined up for registration.

None of this made any sense. She had done everything she was supposed to, even killed during the Games, so that she could come back to her mother. The arena flooding wasn’t her fault. Couldn’t they have let her go home to what remained of her life in peace?

A question nettled her, asking if it wasn’t her fault she was such a disappointment to everyone in the Capitol. If she had been better in the final interview, charming and seductive like Finnick, she could have made them forget the Games had been anticlimactic. She might have saved her mother’s life.

Annie dragged herself to her feed, her legs aching. She had seen her mother’s grave, which was why she came here in the first place. There was nothing else for her here. Annie walked almost frantically back down the path, with no idea of where she was going. She desperately wanted to get away from the image she’d been carrying in her head, of stepping off the train and into her mother’s arms. It could have been a happy homecoming, except that now it wasn’t. Now Annie was left with nothing and no one, except the warped sounds in her own head.

She found herself on the beach without making a conscious decision to go there. This cove was deserted, like it usually was. No one lived around here, and the beach was full of pebbles rather than sand so it wasn’t popular. That suited her perfectly.

Annie stared out at the indigo waves and screamed, the wind whipping her hair. She didn’t care that the roar of the ocean drowned out the sound of her voice, or that her throat was burning. She didn’t care. The sea was the simplest place in the world. There were no complicated political machinations. It was simple sink or swim, life or death.

Annie inhaled the fresh, salty air. She had been away for too long and had almost forgotten what it was like to feel alive. The water was choppy, but she thought it would be safe enough for a quick swim. Annie glanced about the beach, but there were no people out in any direction. She unzipped her dress, powder blue fabric layered with silvery lace. She would probably have still gone in, even if it had been a horrendous storm. She needed the cool, quiet feeling of being submerged in water.

When Annie first struck out into the waves, her whole body was shocked by the coldness. But somehow it acted like a shot of adrenalin. It was reassuring that she could still feel something after the awful numbness which had been clouding her brain recently. She swam with confidence into the darkening water, testing herself by ducking down onto the ocean bed to see how long she could stay before her lungs demanded air. She had forgotten what it felt like to swim for pure pleasure, not as a frantic survival tactic. In the sea at home, she was just a girl again, playing in the water, without a past or a future.

She swam until her legs ached, but it was a good kind of pain, the kind that anchored you in the real world and stopped your mind spinning out in all directions. Annie hadn’t expected to feel so tired so quickly, but she guessed that the weeks of underfeeding in the arena had taken a toll on her body. She knew that now was the right time to go back, before she got too tired. But really, what did she have to go back to? She had lost her last chance to go back to her old life. Annie ducked down under the water, not wanting to go back to land and be a walking tragedy again.

When Annie resurfaced, the wind had picked up. She was buffeted back and forth by the waves like a piece of driftwood. Annie knew that she should have gone back earlier, but it didn’t worry her. She had been out in much worse weather than this.

Annie turned back towards the beach, which was much further away than she remembered. The weather was getting truly ugly now, pushing the waves in all directions, forcing her back. The real Annie, the one who had lived before the Games, would have been scared by now. But she had been frightened for so long, almost died so many times, that her capacity for fear had been killed off.

Annie strained forwards, her legs and arms numb with tiredness. She knew she wasn’t going to make it back like this. There was a jagged rock to her right, which would give her a place to breathe. Annie grabbed it with one hand, looking around in half-hope that she would be able to spot a fishing boat somewhere in the distance. But no one sailed on this part of the coast because of the dangerous rock formations, everyone knew that.

What would happen if she shouted for help? It seemed likely her voice would be lost over the furious wind, and even if it wasn’t, who would come to rescue her? Her mother was dead, and she had pushed Finnick away. She had no one.

Annie gripped the rock more tightly. If no one would help her, she would have to help herself. She prepared to haul her torso out of the water, but as she did so she was dragged back by the current. Annie lost her grip on the rock, and now she was back in the sea. She reached out desperately, but she could feel nothing but the water. Then the sharp outline of the rock smashed against the side of her head.

She went rigid. The pain was shocking, like a current running through her whole body. The water piled on top of her, and she was falling down and down. Annie could feel a tightening in her lungs, and knew she had to start swimming towards the light before she ran out of air.

“Annie?”

That was definitely Glynn’s voice. A hand reached down for her, which she was sure belonged to him. Annie tried to grab it, but her body was exhausted and it was so hard to move.

But Glynn was dead. She had seen it happen, his head split from his body. The voice, the arms...all of it was her imagination.

No one had come to rescue her – she was totally, utterly alone.

The light was falling away from her, but Annie wasn’t scared. She couldn’t think of a single thing she would be sorry to lose. There was something comforting about the darkness, which wrapped around her like a velvet cloak. Closing her eyes was the easiest thing she’d ever done...


	18. Secret

A sharp light cracked her vision.

Annie hoped it would fade away, but instead it swelled brighter and brighter. She tried to cover her eyes, but both her arms seemed to be trapped. Or they weren’t working. Maybe she was dead?

Now there was a black spot blocking the light, which had dulled to a soft glow like the embers in a half-forgotten campfire. Annie blinked, and the shape in front of her slowly fell into coherence. She saw a shock of wet hair, a mouth, bright eyes...

“Finnick?” she rasped, her throat rough.

He exhaled sharply, his breath tickling her face. “You... I thought you were dead.”

Finnick was looking down at her, the sunset behind him. She must be lying on the beach, though she didn’t remember getting here.

“W-what happened?” she asked.

“When you didn’t come back, I went to look for you at the cemetery,” he pushed a damp strand of hair out of her eyes. “I saw something out at sea.”

Annie noticed that Finnick’s shirt was dripping with water. “You swam out to get me?”

“Well – yeah. Annie, what were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t... Nothing.”

Finnick sat back on his hind legs. His usual affable manner was gone, and he looked absolutely furious.

“Is this some kind of joke to you?” he said fiercely. “You survive the arena because you can swim, so when you get home the first thing you do is try to drown yourself?”

Annie sat up, still feeling unsteady and uncertain. She drew her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms protectively around them. Annie was very aware that it was cold, and she was drenched in seawater and wearing nothing except her underwear.

Finnick saw her shivers. Wordlessly, he grabbed his jacket and pulled it around Annie’s shoulders. It was dry and deliciously warm.

“Annie,” Finnick continued. “You _have_ to find a way to cope. I know it’s hard, believe me. You’re not the first victor to take stupid risks after you’ve survived the impossible. But you are lucky, Annie, even though it doesn’t feel like it. You owe it to Glynn and the others...”

How could Finnick lecture her like she was a little girl, when she hadn’t done anything wrong? Now they were back from the Capitol, she didn’t have to obey his instructions. It was her life, and she wouldn’t be controlled by him, or anyone.

“What are you saying? I’m a good swimmer. I would have been fine, only I slipped and knocked my head.”

“We both know you did this on purpose.”

Annie stood up. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She marched off down the beach to find her dress, pulling Finnick’s jacket about her. Her bare feet crunched painfully against the pebbled sand. Finnick followed along behind.

“I’m sorry. Annie, I’m sorry! Please don’t – I wasn’t thinking. Annie!”

She couldn’t keep ignoring him, but she knew as soon as she looked around she was going to forget about wanting to leave. Finnick’s brilliant, liquid eyes were full of something that Annie had never seen in them before, something almost like fear.

He made a move to speak, then pressed his lips together and looked out to sea. If Annie hadn’t known him better, she’d have thought he was fighting back tears. After a moment, he turned back at her, his face set and determined.

“What can I do?” he said. “Tell me how I can help you.”

“I just wanted to swim-”

“You went out on a deserted beach in the middle of a storm. What did you think would happen? Don’t you dare be that reckless with your life ever again.”

“Why not? Everyone who cares about me is dead.”

“That’s not true. You still have me.”

Annie couldn’t stand his sympathy when she had done nothing but cause him problems, forcing him to do unspeakable things to keep her alive. And then today she had lashed out at him, proving that he shouldn’t be near her. She knew she was bad for him, even though he couldn’t see it – or he didn’t _want_ to see it, or he could see it but he was trying to help anyway, because that was the sort of boy Finnick was.

“You’ve done your job. Guided me through the Games, brought me back to District 4 – or what’s left of me. You can leave me alone now.”

Annie shook the sand and grit out of her dress. She awkwardly tried to pull on her clothes without showing too much of her body, shielding herself with Finnick’s jacket as best she could. Once he saw what she was doing, he quickly turned away, embarrassed. She remembered their night together, how disgusted he had been by her. Too disgusted even to sleep with her.

“I can’t leave you alone,” he said quietly.

Annie yanked the zip of the dress up as far as she could manage by herself. She shoved Finnick’s jacket towards him. “There you go.”

“I feel responsible for you.”

Why was he looking at her like that, his gaze soft and tender like a caress? It was making it _so hard_ to do the right thing.

“Well...don’t. Don’t feel responsible. I know you promised my mother that you’d look after me, but that’s over now. And I’m – I’m sorry about what you had to do. It’s... I’m sorry. But if you stay, I know that I’m going to hurt you. The arena has done something to me.”

“Is this about – earlier?”

“When I hit you?” said Annie, her mouth puckering.

“Can you blame yourself for that? After what you’ve been through? Annie, I slept with a knife under my pillow for the first six months after I came out of that arena. I know what it’s like.”

“It’s not just that. Sometimes I hear voices – Glynn or Sage’s... I think there’s something wrong with me – like I’m losing my mind. Why can’t I be like you? Why can’t I just be normal?”

Finnick put his hands on her shoulders. “There’s something wrong with all of us. We _all_ carry scars from the arena.”

“Not like this.”

“Annie, the flashbacks and voices will fade, I promise. Just give yourself time.”

And then Annie felt herself dissolve into thick tears, though she didn’t know whether she was crying for herself or her mother, or for the whole world. She almost felt happy because at least the tears were proof that she was still alive, still here _,_ still capable of feeling something _._ And maybe Finnick still had faith in her, and maybe he was right. Wordlessly, Finnick pulled her to him, crushing her against his chest. His embrace was too tight, but Annie liked it anyway.

“I’m s-sorry,” Annie mumbled. “I know I was lucky. I just feel like... I’ve done so many bad things – to Calpurnia and Jasper and Sage and... and it’s rubbed off on me somehow.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Annie looked up at Finnick. The sun had almost set now, and his face was cast in a blue shadow which made it difficult to read. “How can I ask any more of you, after everything you’ve done? I’ve been such a burden...”

“Maybe I don’t mind.”

“Maybe I’m not worth the effort,” said Annie.

“You are. But no one can save you until you want to save yourself.”

The wind started up again. Annie shook, her damp clothes and hair turning icy.

“We should get you home,” said Finnick, putting his jacket over her shoulders.

Annie grabbed at his arm. “I can’t go back.”

“Where?”

“To – home. All mama’s things will be there.”

“That’s fine. We won’t go there. What about my parents? I told my mother you might like to stay with them.”

Annie shook her head. “No other people. Please. I can’t...”

“Do you want to stay with me tonight, at my place in Victor’s Village?”

Annie nodded. She couldn’t help but feel that she had made the wrong choice. That if she’d been stronger, she would have cut herself off from Finnick. She couldn’t carry on taking and taking from him forever. And he was never going to feel for her in the way that she felt for him. She had to keep reminding herself of that, in the hope that at some point she’d stop forgetting it every time he smiled at her.

“Alright,” Finnick guided her towards the path which led back into town. “But first we’d better stop by the doctor and get her to check that head of yours.”

* * *

Finnick listened to the sound of the tap running in the bathroom as he changed the sheets on his bed. Everything was heightened – the noise, the softness of the blanket, the lights. He felt jittery, like he’d drunk ten cups of coffee. What was wrong with him?

Annie was fine. They’d stopped by the doctor, who had been a bit bemused to see Annie in her crumpled dress and wet hair, but when she had examined her she’d found no signs of concussion. Back at Finnick’s house, he’d thrown together a quick dinner for the two of them. Annie hadn’t eaten or said much, but at least she hadn’t been crying. While she was picking at her plate, Finnick made an excuse to leave the table, and had gathered all the knives from the kitchen, as well as the razor from his ensuite, and hidden them all. He was taking no chances.

Now Annie was brushing her teeth while Finnick sorted out the bed. He wanted to give her his room because it had the view of the main harbour, and in the morning the sun fell through the windows and lit up the whole room. Tomorrow was going to be hard, maybe even worse than today. Annie had lost so much, he almost couldn’t believe she was still standing. But she was.

The lock clicked, and Annie emerged from the bathroom, her face flushed. She was wearing his clothes – a baggy, dark grey t-shirt three sizes too big for her and a pair of his old running shorts. He felt struck by her face, as if this was the first time he’d ever seen her. Except it wasn’t. He had known her his whole life, but he guessed that now he was just really looking.

Finnick forced himself to concentrate. He needed to be a good host.

“Here’s your bed,” he said. “Do you want any more blankets?”

Finnick wasn’t used to worrying about domestic things. Usually he left these arrangements to the cleaner who visited his house once a week. But he had to make sure Annie was comfortable.

“This is fine. Thank you.”

Finnick hovered awkwardly in the doorway. “I’ll be down the corridor in the spare room – just shout if you need me. Unless you’d rather I slept on the couch?”

Annie looked uncertainly at the bed, her forehead crinkling. Something was wrong, and Finnick had to figure out what it was.

“Do you want me to sit with you for a bit? Until you fall asleep?”

Annie looked at him with her strange, sea-coloured eyes. She nodded.

“Where do you want me to sit?”

“Here?” Annie glanced at the empty side of the bed. “Is that alright?”

“Of course,” Finnick tried not to sound too eager. He was just a big brother tucking his sister into bed.

Finnick took off his shoes, while Annie climbed underneath the covers. He left his jacket on, just to remind himself that he wasn’t allowed to go to sleep. Finnick was _not_ sleeping in the same bed as Annie. He was just here to help her settle down for the night. Finnick stretched out on the other side of the bed, trying to angle his body so he wasn’t touching hers.

“Thank you for today,” said Annie quietly without looking at him.

“What?”

“For saving my life. Again.”

Finnick tried to deflect. “Well you know... I’m not keeping count or anything.”

Annie looked up at him, her face quietly serious. “I mean it. I know I can’t repay you, but I am grateful for everything.”

Finnick had no words, so he just gave a half-shrug. He almost couldn’t believe she was here, with him. When he had dragged her body out of the water this afternoon, he had been absolutely sure that he had lost her. And in that agonizingly long minute before she had opened her eyes, he had realised something that everyone else already seemed to know. He loved her. It had come to him out of nowhere, but it also seemed inevitable, the way the river runs into the ocean. Of course he loved her.

Annie turned over and rested her head on Finnick’s chest. He almost forgot to breathe, but then he tried to act like this was completely normal. Girls slept on his chest all the time. It didn’t mean anything. He was not going to imagine all the things that they could do together in the dark, here in his bed. The ways that he might show her how much he loved her. That wasn’t going to happen.

As they lay together, he spoke quietly about the things they might do tomorrow. Annie didn’t say anything, but he could tell she was listening. He didn’t know how much time passed, because there was nothing to mark the moments in the darkness. Eventually, Finnick felt Annie drift into unconsciousness. Once he was sure she wasn’t going to wake up, he extricated himself with difficulty. He knew he had to get out of here.

Checking once again that Annie was still deeply asleep, Finnick grabbed his shoes and crept downstairs and out the front door. The night was colder than he expected, the chilly air hitting him like a slap in the face. But Finnick didn’t care. He needed to find someone who would know what to do.

He knocked on Peggy’s front door, but got no answer. She was probably up in her room. Finnick banged again, louder. A light clicked on inside, and then Peggy was at the door, glasses on, wrapped in a thick dressing gown.

“Finnick, what on earth?” she frowned. “Is it Annie? I heard about her mother.”

“Annie’s fine – well, not fine. But she’s asleep. I – can I come in?”

Peggy looked at him, clearly bewildered. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Actually, can we go down to the beach?”

That was pretty much the only place in District 4 where you could talk without worrying about being overheard. The Capitol couldn’t bug the sea.

“It’s two o’clock in the morning,” she said.

“Please?”

Peggy sighed and grabbed her coat.

“What is wrong with you tonight?” she asked, when they’d picked their way down to the shore.

“Peggy, she was right. Galatea.”

“Who?”

“The woman who I... that’s not important. The thing is, I think I love Annie.”

“Right.” Peggy pulled her grey, shapeless coat tighter.

“You don’t seem that surprised.”

“To be honest, I’d never given it much thought. Well, I am a bit surprised. I didn’t think you did commitment. But I’m more surprised about why you woke me up in the middle of the night to tell me this.”

“Because I don’t know what to do.”

“Have you tried talking to her?”

“I can’t.”

Peggy smiled, “Finnick, what do you want me to say? Do you want me to ask her out for you like we’re in the school playground?”

“Of course not! And stop laughing at me, this isn’t funny.”

“Alright,” Peggy lost her smile, but her eyes were still amused. Finnick wanted to throw something at her.

“I’m serious Peggy, I can’t be in love with her.”

“But you just told me you were.”

“No – I mean... What happens if President Snow finds out?”

Peggy looked serious at last. “What do you mean?”

“Well, he probably will, won’t he? He knows everything that goes on here.”

“Why would he care?”

“Because I’m...” Finnick struggled to find the right word. “Valuable property.”

“In the Capitol, yes. But the other eleven months of the year? I don’t think he cares, Finnick. Honestly.”

“But what happens if he hurts her? Because of me?”

Peggy looked genuinely sympathetic for the first time in their conversation. She seemed to weigh her words carefully before she spoke. “He could kill any of us – all of us whenever he wants. Maybe you should just make the most of the time you have.”

“I keep thinking about what else he could do to her. What else could he use her to force me to do.”

Peggy shook her head and turned back towards Victor’s Village. “Look, Finnick. It’s too late. I can’t think – and neither can you.”

Finnick folded his arms. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have woken you up.”

“That’s OK,” she said, wearily. “Just as long as you don’t do it again. And for what it’s worth, I think you should tell her. Maybe wait until she’s had some time to... you know... deal with her mother and everything.”

Finnick walked back to his house, feeling twice as cold as he had on the way out. When he went upstairs, Annie was still asleep in his bed. Safe. Finnick stole quietly over to check on her, then curled up with difficulty on the too-small couch to sleep.

Peggy’s words hadn’t comforted him. Finnick was sure he would be putting Annie in danger if anything happened between them. That was something he couldn’t live with, especially not after what had happened to Mrs Cresta. And anyway, just because he had feelings for Annie, that didn’t mean he could actually go through with it. Finnick had never had a real relationship with anyone before, and he wasn’t exactly the bleeding hearts type. Just look at what had happened that night he had tried to get close to Annie – what a disaster that had been.

No, Finnick would just have to pretend that he saw her as his tribute and _only_ his tribute. That shouldn’t be too difficult. After all, Finnick was good at pretending.


	19. Shelter

When Finnick woke up, he couldn’t understand why his body was curled at such an awkward angle. As he tried to stretch, pain shot all the way up his spine. Then he realised he was on the couch and there was literally nowhere else for his limbs to go.

Finnick opened his eyes. The sun burst through the windows, so bright it felt like it was burning his vision. He blinked until he could see again.

Annie was sitting in the window seat, her head resting on her hand. All her attention was focused on the clear blue sea, and she hadn’t noticed that he was awake yet. He could tell from her face that she had been crying, but her eyes were dry at the moment. She seemed sad, but somehow also serene. It was different to the way she’d looked last night, when it seemed like the grief might rip her apart.

Watching her, Finnick was reminded of the old legend his mother used to tell him at bedtime, the one of the sea maiden who traded her fishtail for human legs. She wanted to live on land, but once she got her wish she understood all she’d sacrificed for it. Then the girl spent the rest of her life mourning her home under the waves. There was something about Annie which seemed too wild, too independent for mundane, everyday life.

Finnick realised that he should have been up before her. By sleeping in, he’d left her alone with her thoughts, which was too much of a risk at the moment. Annie needed him to do better.

He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “Morning.”

Annie turned, and he saw her put on a more cheerful expression. “Hello.”

There was an awkward silence. Should he say something about her mother? No, she clearly didn’t need reminding – better go on as normal and wait for her to bring it up.

“So this is what Finnick Odair looks like first thing in the morning...” she said.

“Shut up,” he shoved a pillow over his face. “I’m not a morning person.”

“You can’t go back to sleep,” said Annie, perching on the arm of the couch and grabbing the pillow. “I’m hungry...”

Finnick tried to wrestle the pillow off her as a joke, but he accidentally tugged too hard, and Annie fell on top of him. Now there was nothing separating them except a thin blanket, and their clothes. Annie smelled warm and musky, and her mouth was right there. This felt like the morning after, except nothing had happened the night before. And nothing was going to happen now.

“Sorry,” said Finnick. “Didn’t mean to...”

Annie abruptly pulled herself off him and tucked her hair self-consciously behind her ears. “Sorry. I didn’t want to rootle through your cupboards without permission.”

“Rootle away.”

“Is it alright if I cook something?”

“I can do it.” Finnick was extremely conscious that he’d hidden half the kitchen equipment last night.

Annie shook her head. “I’d rather do it myself. If that’s alright?”

“Sure,” he said, following her downstairs. “It’s always been my ambition to be waited on hand and foot.”

Finnick hadn’t meant to sound so light-hearted, but the more nervous he got the more flippant comments he made. It was a bad habit he really needed to break. Annie sorted through the pantry, which Finnick’s mother had stocked before he got back, and suggested cooking pancakes.

He planted himself on a chair, picking absentmindedly at his sleeve while he watched. Annie worked industriously, occasionally asking Finnick where something was kept, but otherwise mostly keeping quiet. Luckily she didn’t need any sharp knives, because they were currently all hidden at the back of the wardrobe in the spare bedroom.

Finnick volunteered to take control of the frying pan, bragging that he was excellent at flipping pancakes, because he didn’t like the idea of her in direct contact with a hot stove. He still didn’t know what to make of her stunt last night. Her explanation – that she had accidentally ended up stranded – made sense, but only so far.

Anyone from this District understood the sea, when it was safe to go out and when it wasn’t. Yesterday had definitely been too dangerous, no question. He wanted to believe that it had just been a bad judgement call, brought on by the loss of her mother. But what if Annie had done it intentionally? If so, how could he leave her alone, knowing she might try again?

He watched Annie clean down the flour from the kitchen surfaces, her forehead creased in concentration. The methodical tasks seemed to steady her. Maybe she did have a chance, now they were out of the poisonous atmosphere of the Capitol, away from the cameras and the sedatives and Snow.

The baggy t-shirt she’d borrowed had slipped down so one of her shoulders peeped through the neck hole.

“What is it?” asked Annie, self-consciously adjusting the t-shirt.

Finnick realised he was staring at her. He needed to behave. “Just – could you get the cutlery out? It’s in the cupboard next to you.”

“The pancake’s burning,” she said.

It was. Finnick swallowed a few choice swear words, and slipped the dark, crusty pancake onto the plate, where it promptly broke in half. This was harder than Finnick had thought.

Once they’d finished cooking the pancakes, they took them out onto the porch which overlooked the main harbour. The sun made the water sparkle, the white sails of the little fishing boats glowing in the sunshine. There was no place on earth more beautiful than District 4. It didn’t matter where else Finnick went, how much money the Capitol put into decorating their houses, nothing would ever come close to the soaring cliffs, the white-gold sand or the ever-changing waters of home.

Annie chewed in silence. She managed to work her way through a whole pancake, which was good. Finnick had taken most of the burnt ones, of which there were many.

“These pancakes are such a mess,” Annie smiled.

He shrugged. “Guess I’m not as adept with a spatula as I am with a trident.”

“It’s good to eat normal food. The Capitol put too much sugar in everything.” Annie looked down at her plate, frowning. “My mother used to make me pancakes, as a treat.”

She put her food to one side, cheeks flushed. Finnick needed to know what she was thinking, but he worried that asking her would make it worse. Did he really want to know if she had tried to drown herself? But he couldn’t keep silently worrying about what was happening in Annie’s mind. Maybe the only way through it was to ask.

“Annie...” he began hesitantly. “Last night – did you do it on purpose?”

There was a pause. Annie fiddled with her fork, her hair falling over her face. “I don’t know. I didn’t deliberately go in wanting to... But once I was in the water, there was a moment where I knew I was drowning and I just... gave up.”

Finnick swallowed with difficulty. _Gave up?_ After everything? So she hadn’t believed there was anything on the shore worth coming back to, not even him.

“But I’m glad you rescued me. I’m glad to be alive still,” she said.

Finnick leant forwards and lowered his voice. “Annie, tell me that’s the truth. Promise you won’t do it again. You’re not just saying that?”

Annie turned to him, pushing back her hair, and said almost fiercely. “When have I been anything but honest with you, Finnick?”

That was a fair point. Whereas Finnick was never honest with anyone, and there were a hundred things he was hiding from Annie at this very moment.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he said quickly.

Neither of them moved to continue eating, but they didn’t get up either.

“If I had done the interview properly, would my mother still be alive?” said Annie.

Finnick knew he had to tread carefully. The house was certainly bugged.

“I don’t know,” he said at last. “Maybe he wanted to punish you, but even if the interview had been perfect, he might have done it anyway.”

Finnick didn’t want to lie, but telling Annie about Snow’s bargain was only going to make her blame herself more than ever. Besides, who knew whether the president would have kept his promise even if Annie had performed well?

“Your mother didn’t deserve what happened to her,” he said. “And neither did you. But you can’t change any of it.”

Annie pensively fiddled with the ends of her hair. “I know... but I just wish I’d never... I wish Sage had won instead of me.”

“Why?” said Finnick, more sharply than he’d intended.

“Because her death wasn’t fair. I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Sage was half-drowned before you even got to her.”

“She was so much braver than me. What she said...”

Finnick had no time for Sage’s grandstanding. It wasn’t as though he disagreed with her, but shooting her mouth off in the middle of the arena wasn’t a smart move. She had almost gotten Annie killed.

“Sage put both of you in danger – I don’t know why she thought she’d get away with it.”

“She was sick of being treated like an animal-”

“What do you think would have happened to Sage if she’d survived the arena? And her family? You think the Capitol would have happily let her go home after what she said?”

Annie looked down abruptly, and he could tell she was fighting back tears. He knew he needed to be more sensitive, but he couldn’t stand even thinking about a different ending to the Games. That would mean he would be sitting on the porch alone, and Annie would be dead.

“With Sage’s injuries, she would have died anyway,” he said flatly.

“I just... I didn’t do it in self-defence, or to spare her a drawn-out death. I did it because I wanted to go home. Selfish...” Annie was twisting her hair again, pulling it painfully tight.

Finnick took her hands in his. “You aren’t the only one.”

She looked up at him desperately. “How did you find a way to live with yourself, after what you did?”

He tried to think back, but all he remembered of the weeks after the arena was how unreal they had felt. It had been like watching his life through a window.

“I don’t know,” he said. “To be honest, I don’t remember feeling very remorseful or anything. I was just a kid, and the tributes I went after were all bigger and older than me. After it was over, my parents and everyone else were so glad to have me back, I guess I just had to be fine, for them.”

Annie was looking at him sadly, which almost made him feel sorry for himself. He tried to shake off the feeling. It wasn’t the time for self-pity, not when he had to be a support for Annie.

“Anyway,” Finnick stacked their half-empty plates. “I better clear these up.”

After he put away the breakfast things, he came back out to the porch. Annie was still in the same place, staring out at the water.

“What do you want to do today?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said quietly. “I don’t know what my life is supposed to be. I did everything so I could come back home to my mother and now...

“You told me once that you had so many plans for your life,” said Finnick gently. “Isn’t now your chance?”

She had told him that the night something had almost happened between them. Finnick didn’t want to think about it – or remind Annie – but he took the risk.

“I know. It just seems like that was a hundred years ago. A different person.”

Finnick turned to her. “What do you want now?”

“I want to do something for Glynn’s family. He kept me alive in the arena, I owe him everything – and you, obviously,” her eyes darted self-consciously towards Finnick. “Glynn helped his mother provide for the family. Now she has no one...”

Of course Annie’s first thought would be for someone else. The sorrows she had faced, which would harden most people, only made her heart bigger. Unlike Finnick, who had never really thought about the girl who had been his District partner, and had definitely never tried to help her family.

“What do you want to do?” he asked.

“I don’t know...” Annie looked out to sea. “I have more money than I could ever need. Can’t I share some of it with them?”

“I don’t think you’re allowed to give it away like that.”

“But it’s my money.”

“It’s the Capitol’s money. They’re just loaning it to you. Anyway, couldn’t it come across as a little patronizing? I don’t know Glynn’s mother, but she might be too proud to accept it.”

“So I shouldn’t do anything?”

“That’s not what I said. I just think you need to find a different strategy.”

* * *

As Annie hurried down the narrow, slanting street, she tried not to look shocked by the squalid houses, broken windows and ragged children playing listlessly in the road. That would be rude. She’d never been to the shanty town before, because her mother had always been so determined to protect her – until she couldn’t any more...

Annie looked down a side passage, but it was just another dead end. She was definitely lost.

Shyly, Annie approached a woman who was sitting outside her house, scrubbing clothes in a bucket of soapy water. A thin boy with a dirty face was half-hidden in her skirts.

“Excuse me...” said Annie. “I’m looking for Simon Maguire’s house – his parents have a blacksmith’s shop... Am I in the wrong place?”

The woman looked at her from under heavy-lidded eyes. “That’s two streets away – follow the road there and then turn left.”

The boy at her side tugged at her. “Does she have summat to eat?”

Annie quickly fetched some money out of her purse, but the woman’s face hardened even further. She pushed her son’s hand away.

“The road’s just down there,” she said firmly.

Annie took the hint reluctantly and moved on. She guessed it wasn’t a surprise that the woman didn’t want her or her child to associate with Annie. Everyone in Panem must have seen her interview, so they all knew there was something wrong with her. She didn’t blame them for being scared – Annie was afraid of herself sometimes.

The forge was dark and sooty like an oven. Annie peered inside, and caught a shock of blond hair which she recognised from the Reaping Ceremony. Simon, Glynn’s friend, the boy whose life had been saved. He was cleaning some tools, his injured arm half-hidden in his baggy shirt.

When Simon glanced up, he saw Annie as she hovered in the doorway. Immediately, his expression became guarded, as if shutters had fallen down over his face. Annie guessed he must hate her. After all, she had returned instead of Glynn .

“I’m Annie,” she said at last.

“I know.”

Simon cocked his head, a movement which reminded her so strongly of Glynn that she wanted to cry. Even though they looked nothing alike, there was something so similar about them that she couldn’t quite define.

“Can I talk to you?” asked Annie.

Simon raised his chin, a little defiantly. “What about?”

What could she say? Annie had been prepared when she had gone to find him, but now her thoughts were so scattered. All she could concentrate on was the clang of the blacksmith’s tools.

“Um...” Annie realised she was fiddling with the hem of her dress and forced herself to stop. “I’m – um – I just wanted to talk to you. I know you were Glynn’s friend.

“I guess you could say that,” said Simon, who seemed to be growing more hostile by the moment.

“I wanted – I’m really sorry...” Annie had to stay calm, composed. She knew she had no right to get hysterical in front of Simon, so took a deep breath and started again. “Glynn has quite a large family, I think?”

“Two brothers and a baby sister. And his ma, obviously.”

“If he’d won, he could have provided for them for the rest of their lives.”

“But he didn’t. You came back instead.”

Simon folded his arms. Annie wasn’t surprised, or even offended by what he said. She had to win him over and prove that she was going to make things right.

“I have money now, and no one to spend it on,” said Annie. “And I would like to help Glynn’s family-”

“She’ll never take money from you,” he said. “He inherited most of his stubbornness from her.”

Annie was irritated. “Yes, I wasn’t saying – that’s not what I wanted to do. What I meant was – I live in Victor’s Village now-”

“Must be nice for you.”

Annie was beginning to suspect that Glynn might have gotten his sarcasm from Simon. “Well, I paid a pretty steep price for it.”

That wiped the hostile glare from Simon’s face.

“What I mean is...” Annie tried to save the conversation. “Now my old house is empty. My mother is dead – you probably heard. So there’s no one using it, and I thought Glynn’s mother could – that they could live in it.”

“So she could rent it from you?”

“No. A gift. I’d give it to her. Of course I’d need to clear it out and fix a few things first, but do you think it would be a help to her?”

“Yes, no question. They don’t even have proper running water at the moment. Don’t know whether she’d accept it though.”

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you first. To see if there’s a way that I’d be able to make the offer which wouldn’t offend her. I didn’t want it to look – I don’t know – like I was putting a price on how much his life was worth. But I thought I could help? I don’t know.”

“Leave it to me,” said Simon. “I think I can talk her round.”

“Thank you,” Annie wanted to hug him, but she thought he wouldn’t like it so she kept her arms by her sides. “Glynn would be so angry with me if I didn’t do something for her.”

“Huh, well I’m still angry with him for volunteering in the first place. All the amateur heroics, going and getting himself killed when he had a family to support.”

Annie wished, desperately, that she had a family who needed her. That there had been a reason to come back from the Games.

“Maybe if he hadn’t had to look after me... I’m sorry. I shouldn’t – Glynn was your friend. You shouldn’t have to listen to me.”

“He liked you,” said Simon. “It may not have been obvious, but I knew him properly, and I could see he did. He trusted you.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I should go. But I’m so sorry about your friend.”

She thought Simon wasn’t going to respond, but finally he spoke. “He wasn’t my friend.”

“Sorry? I thought-”

“I loved him. We both did. We loved each other.”

“As...?”

“Yeah, in _that_ way.”

Anne felt like she had missed a step while walking down a staircase. She had never thought, never suspected, that Glynn had been hiding a secret like this.

“I didn’t know.”

Marriage between two people of the same sex wasn’t explicitly banned in Panem, but there was a general feeling that it was frowned upon in the Districts. People like that tended to go missing more frequently than they should. In the Capitol of course things were different, and everyone seemed to do what they liked with whoever they wanted.

“Well, we kept it secret on purpose. If the Capitol had even suspected it they would have locked me up and engineered a convenient death for Glynn in the arena.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Simon absentmindedly rinsed the rag he’d been using to clean the tools. “I must have seen his death repeated a hundred times, but it still doesn’t feel real.”

Annie knew the fact he was telling her this was a mark of trust, but she couldn’t think about Glynn, his head, the blood and snow. Not now, not here...

“Please let me know what his mother says,” she gabbled, stumbling over her words and then fled the forge before Simon could respond.


	20. Letting Go

Annie stayed down on the pier with her feet dangling in the water and her head in her hands for a long time. The sun was hanging low in the sky by the time she could breathe properly again and think about returning home. Finnick had gone out this morning with his father to help with the catch, but Annie hoped he was back by now.

As Annie approached Finnick’s house, something a little bit like pride swelled in her chest. She had talked Simon around, and she was sure that he would persuade Glynn’s mother to accept the house. Now she could finally stop feeling so useless and pathetic.

The door was on the latch, and she saw Finnick’s boots drying by the fire. He was home then.

“Finnick? Finnick!” she called, excited to tell him about today.

As she hurried up the stairs, she realised she could hear the buzz of the shower.

“Annie?”

Finnick’s voice was panicked. Next thing she knew, the door to the bathroom flew open, and Finnick raced onto the landing. He had clearly just been in the shower, his hair was dripping and he was wearing absolutely nothing – except a towel around his waist. Annie caught a glimpse of bronzed skin, drops of water running down his chest, before she and Finnick smacked into each other.

“Sorry!” he said, as Annie squeaked in surprise.

She stepped backwards and almost fell down the stairs, grabbing the bannister at the last moment.

“Are you alright? Annie, what’s happened?”

“Nothing! I’m fine,” she covered her eyes with her hand. “I didn’t see anything... I was just – I’m so sorry, I’ll go.”

“Don’t worry, I’m decent. Well, decent as I’ll ever be.”

Annie hesitantly uncovered her eyes. Finnick had adjusted his towel and was leaning on the bannister, clearly battling to keep a straight face.

“What can I do for you, Miss Cresta?”

“Should I go?”

“It’s fine – unless you’d prefer to speak to me when I’m fully clothed,” Finnick said archly.

Annie shrugged like it didn’t matter either way, desperately hoping that she wasn’t blushing too hard. She was just going to look at his face, nowhere else. “Not really. Um... well, I just wanted to tell you that I’ve found a way to help Glynn’s family.

“What’s the plan?”

“The house – my mother’s house. I don’t want it anymore. And so... well, I thought what am I going to do, sell it? Then I thought about how Glynn’s family live in shantytown and that they could make much better use of it.”

Finnick paused. “I don’t know, Annie. Are you sure you want to get rid of the house?”

“Yes,” said Annie, surprising even herself by how firm her voice was. “I can’t live there again. Will the Capitol mind?”

Finnick shrugged. “I don’t think there are any rules against it. We’ll just try and keep it quiet.”

“Okay,” Annie smiled. “I guess... should I start thinking about moving into my house in Victor’s Village, then? I can’t stay with you forever.”

“It’s up to you,” he said.

“I don’t want to be in the way, but...”

“But?”

She looked at him, hoping he’d understand what she wanted.

“Annie, you know you can stay here as long as you need. I don’t mind.”

“Can I? Not forever, obviously. But just... until I’m better?”

“Sure,” said Finnick, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes.

“I should let you go before you catch a cold.”

“Not going to stay for my ‘Bathing Beauty’ routine then?”

Annie tried to smile, like seeing Finnick half-naked wasn’t a big deal. She didn’t want to be like the Capitol, who just saw him as a piece of meat.

“I think I’ve seen quite enough of you for one evening,” she said, as firmly as she could manage.

* * *

Finnick stood on the porch and tried to enjoy the twilight. It was one of those perfect evenings at the close of summer where the light was soft and the earthy smell of chrysanthemums hung on the breeze. If Finnick didn’t know better, he would think that summer was going to carry on forever. But he could smell rain in the air, and knew the tranquil weather was too good to last.

Anyway, tonight nothing could distract him from the worry which churned at the pit of his stomach. Annie still hadn’t come back. And although there was half an hour until the time that he’d arranged to fetch her, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. He was trying to be patient, but the minutes seemed to drag out elastically until it felt like they would never end.

When Annie had told him that she wanted to clear out Mrs Cresta’s room by herself, Finnick’s first thought was that it was a terrible idea. Although Annie had spent the last week fixing up the house with some help from him, neither of them had ever gone into Mrs Cresta’s bedroom. Until today.

Finnick had desperately wanted to persuade her to let him go with her – after all, Annie had been determined to go to her mother’s grave by herself, and look what had happened then. But he recognised the stubborn look on her face and knew there was no point in arguing. Annie was like a stray cat, and he had no wish to tame her. The best Finnick could do was persuade her to let him pick her up at the end of the day.

Finnick wandered through his house, trying to find something to distract himself. As he went into the living room, he almost tripped over a half-woven fishing net that Annie was working on. The house was certainly a lot more cluttered now Annie was staying with him. She had started a new fishing net for Finnick’s father, and then had somehow ended up volunteering to fix the gear of two more fishermen who couldn’t afford to buy replacements.

But Annie seemed to enjoy it, and worked on the nets at a rapid pace during the evenings, while Finnick read books out loud or played music on the radio. He guessed that she partly did it because weaving reminded her of her mother. In almost all of Finnick’s memories of Mrs Cresta, she seemed to be weaving or knitting something, her needles clacking as she worked. Well, he was glad Annie had found a way to keep her mother close to her. He just hoped that Annie wasn’t going to follow through with her threat to knit him a jumper. He knew that he wouldn’t have the heart not to wear it, even though Annie always seemed to choose such bright, clashing colours for her creations.

It was three weeks now since they had come back from the Capitol, and Finnick was amazed how quickly their lives had fitted together. Annie had good days, where she was full of life, and bad days where she could barely drag herself out of bed. There were also moments where she seemed to lose where she was and he had to stop her from sinking completely into bad memories. But so far they had survived every storm together. Annie was only staying with him temporarily, of course, until she was better, but he was allowed to enjoy it while it lasted.

On Sundays they went over to Finnick’s parents for lunch, along with the rest of the extended family. Annie didn’t say much, but she seemed to enjoy herself, apart from last week when one of Finnick’s cousins had accidentally thrown an apple at Annie’s head while they’d been cooking. Finnick had to take Annie outside to help her to calm down, but even then she’d been able to go back and finish the meal.

The evenings were his favourite, when they sat on the couch with the windows letting in the breeze. Annie would rest her head against his shoulder as she concentrated on her work, and sometimes he would wind his fingers through her hair. And it didn’t mean anything romantic, it was just that he had no other words to say how proud he was of her. Annie was chatty some evenings and quiet others, which both suited Finnick fine, and sometimes she would doze in his lap like a cat and he’d carry her upstairs – to the spare room, obviously – and try not to wake her.

What was Annie doing now? Finnick desperately wanted to do as she’d asked and give her privacy, but he couldn’t stop worrying that he was being irresponsible by leaving her. It felt like whatever decision he made would be the wrong one.

The phone rang, jerking Finnick back to reality. He ran to answer the call, hoping it was Annie and that she was safe and well and wanted him to pick her up early.

“Finnick, it’s Mayor Weatherford.”

What was she calling him for? This couldn’t be good.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Not exactly. Annie’s not with you, is she?”

“No,” said Finnick, in a low voice. “What’s going on?”

“I’ve just had a schedule change and I wanted to let you know about it.”

“Alright?” he said, bewildered.

“President Snow has rearranged his autumn meeting with me. I’m not going to the Capitol – we’re hosting it here, in District 4.”

“What does that mean?”

“That’s all I’ve been told. And he’s asked that you be there.”

“This is about Annie?”

“I don’t know, Finnick. Truly, I haven’t been told anything.”

Finnick thanked her for the information, and hung up as soon as he could do politely.

It was only three weeks since they got back from the Capitol. What could Snow want with them? What else could he take?

Finnick knew that it was still too early to go over to Annie’s house, but he couldn’t help it. He had to see that she was safe, or all he’d be able to do would be to imagine her in trouble.

He threw on a sweater and jogged through the gentle drizzle over to the little house on the hill where Annie had grown up. When he knocked, there was no response, which made Finnick more worried than ever. The door was on the latch, so he gave up waiting and headed inside.

He found Annie upstairs in her mother’s bedroom. She was packing away clothes in a trunk, tears streaming down her face. But Finnick was just relieved to see she was still alive.

“Annie, I’m sorry I came early. I couldn’t stay away.”

She looked up at him, the tears flowing freely down her cheeks. “It d-doesn’t matter. I’ll be finished soon.”

“Can I help?”

Annie shook her head.

“Should I go?”

“It’s fine. I’m almost done.”

Finnick was forced to stand uselessly and watch as Annie sorted through the last few drawers, crying silently the whole time. It reminded him of the hours he had spent in the Tribute Centre, looking at Annie on the monitors without being able to save her. He felt powerless – he _was_ powerless.

Annie closed the trunk, leaning heavily on it. “This is all I want to keep.”

“Shall I carry it back with us?”

She gave a half-hearted nod, but didn’t move from her position. Finnick waited, knowing that he had to let her do this in her own time.

After a long pause, Annie said in a small voice, “I want to go home. Please.”

Finnick held out his hand. “Let’s come back for the trunk.”

Annie nodded distractedly and made half an effort to move. But her movements were fractured and uncoordinated like she was too dizzy to walk. Finnick gave up trying to help her down the stairs and picked her up. Outside, the drizzle had turned into a downpour, but Finnick didn’t care. He needed to get Annie out of this house.

He put her down on a rough-hewn tree trunk at the end of the lane. If he needed to, he could obviously carry her back to Victor’s Village, but they could both do without the extra attention. People in District 4 already had enough ignorant things to say about Annie without courting more gossip.

Finnick crouched down and gently tilted Annie’s face towards him. Her eyes had a blank look about them, which was never a good sign. He needed to bring her back to herself.

“Annie... Annie, come on, look at me,” he said. “Listen, Annie. You’re here with me, you’re safe.”

But he was losing her. As she pulled back from him, he could feel her body was tense with fear. Finnick refused to panic, because they had gotten through these moments before – when she was stressed or cold or upset, or sometimes for no reason that they could understand.

“Glynn...?” whispered Annie.

“It’s Finnick. You’re with me in District 4, you’re safe,” he said gently. “You’re not in the arena. The Games are over.”

“Don’t go, Glynn. They’ll get you in the dark.”

“ _Finnick_. You’re here with me - come on Annie, you’re here with me.”

He murmured all the comforting things he could think of, gradually coaxing her back – gently, the only way that would work. He felt the fear dissipate from her body, which was always the sign that the memories were receding.

Finnick touched his forehead to Annie’s, her face wet from the rain. He couldn’t stop being afraid when this happened that he was never going to get her back.

“Annie?”

“Finnick?” she said softly.

He realised too late how close they were, lips almost touching. Annie looked up at him slowly. For a moment, neither of them moved or spoke or breathed.

Then Finnick came to his senses and quickly retreated. His hair dripped in his eyes, and he pushed it back from his forehead impatiently. Annie shivered, her thin peasant blouse completely unsuitable for the downpour.

“Shall we go?” he said.

Annie tightened her arms around her knees. “It’s been three weeks now.”

“What?”

“Since I got back. And they’re not going away.” Her eyes darted between his face and down at her hands. “The... when I get confused. It’s been a month now and they’re not going away.”

“Not yet...”

He had to get her home, or at least somewhere they could shelter from the rain.

“What happens if I’m always like this?” Annie twisted her hand nervously in her hair.

“You need to give yourself more time–”

“But what happens if they never go away?” she said, almost fiercely.

“Then... then I guess you have to learn to live with them, live with who you are now. Because you can’t go back.”

“I know.”

Annie abruptly got to her feet unaided. She folded her arms, and began to tramp in the direction of Victor’s Village. Finnick followed. They were both soaked now. Finnick should have brought a coat for her, but he had been so panicked when he left that he hadn’t thought about it.

Annie stopped again and turned to him. “Finnick, you have done so much for me, here and in the Capitol. But I can’t take from you anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” said Finnick, trying to keep the panic out of his voice.

“You can’t spend your life chained to me, and I won’t spend my life being pitied by you.”

“Have I – Annie, have I done something wrong? I don’t – because I can change, I...”

Annie gave a sad smile, and touched her hand to Finnick’s face. Her fingers were icy. “Of course you haven’t. You have been the best mentor I could have asked for. You saved me a hundred times when no one else had faith in me. And that’s why...”

This couldn’t be happening. She couldn’t slip through his fingers, not now.

“Annie-”

Her voice wobbled as she spoke. “That’s why I’m doing this. I have to give you back your life.”

“Does that mean... What, that you don’t want to stay with me anymore?”

Annie nodded.

“But I don’t mind!” said Finnick. “You’re acting like you want to protect me, but anything I ever did for you was done of my own choice.”

“You’ve made sacrifices that no one should even have to consider making. After everything I’ve put you through... Why are you still trying to save me?”

“Because I’m tied to you.”

“What does that mean?”

The words had slipped out without him meaning to say them. He tried to tamp down any excess emotion.

“I promised your mother I would help you, and that’s doubly important now that she’s not here. _Please,_ Annie-”

He tried to grab her hand, but she danced out of reach. “Finnick, I’m trying to let you go, and it’s really hard because I love you, and you’re making it even more difficult.”

There was a pause. For a moment, Finnick thought she hadn’t realised what she’d said, but then he saw her face and he knew that she did. _She loved him._

“And sometimes when we’re alone and you put your fingers in my hair, or sit with me as I fall asleep... sometimes it feels like there’s more between us than we’ve ever said out loud. And it feels like you do everything except say the words – and obviously I know you don’t love me. Who would? But I don’t want you to stay out of pity.”

“I don’t,” Finnick’s throat was so tight he could barely force out the words. He couldn’t say the thing which would convince Annie he was telling her the truth. “It’s not out of pity.”

“Then why?” Annie was searching, expectant.

There were no secrets hidden in her face, her eyes were fearless and full of love and hope. He guessed he shouldn’t be surprised that she would do this – Annie, who had jumped down a cliff to escape murderous tributes, who had rescued a horse and ridden it to safety during a fire, who had lost almost everything and was still here... Annie had a quiet courage that few of the strongest people could match.

And Finnick knew he couldn’t give her the truth. However much he wanted to, whatever he felt, the fear of failing to keep her safe was always at the front of his mind.

“Because...I’ll always be your mentor,” he said woodenly, almost choking on his own lies.

“But I love you,” she said again, desperately.

Finnick wanted to look away, but he knew that would make what he was about to say less convincing. “Annie, you know you’re important to me, but I can’t give you the answer you want.”

He half-expected Annie to call him out for the liar that he was. This had to be the most unconvincing performance he’d ever given. But instead he could see the disappointment blossom over Annie’s face, and it made him hate himself. He had to remember that he was doing this for her.

Annie nodded slowly, then continued to walk down the lane. Finnick followed in silence, neither of them looking at the other.

When they got back to Finnick’s house, Annie turned to him. “I need the key to my house – my house here.”

“I’ve got it somewhere,” he shuffled through a pile of clutter in the kitchen.

By the time he found the key, Annie had returned carrying a pile of her things. Her waterlogged hair was almost black, and her pale face was utterly determined.

“Why don’t you sleep here tonight, and take your things over tomorrow?”

That would give him time to convince her to stay.

Annie just shook her head. “I can’t.”

He followed her to the door, hoping he could keep her talking until he could find some way to persuade her to not to go.

“Are we still going to speak sometimes? Now and again?”

“Of course – but I can’t... I just can’t live like this, not feeling like I’m a weight dragging you down.”

She stood on tiptoe, and put her arms around him. It was awkward, the pile of her things between them, one of her boxes jamming into Finnick’s chest. He wanted to show her how much he wanted her to stay.

“You’ll be glad I did this,” she whispered.

Annie was so wrong. She had no idea what was going on in his head or his heart.

She tried to smile. “This is the right thing to do – I’m giving you back your life.”

Finnick didn’t say anything, and then she was gone and the house was empty.

He stumbled into the living room and threw himself on the couch, which was now free from Annie’s clutter. In the darkness, he stared at the ceiling, unable to move. All he knew was that he couldn’t live like this. Neither could Annie. He had to tell her what she really meant to him. But that might put her in danger with Snow...

Might.

Finnick sat up. He remembered vividly the moment during his own Hunger Games when he’d received the trident from his sponsors. It was the most exquisite thing that he’d ever seen. And he remembered the feeling when he’d held it in his hands, the way it felt like a natural extension to his arm. It had changed everything. Before, he had been scared, running, fending off the other tributes as they tracked him down. Once he had it, he was a player in the game. He was the one that other people were afraid of.

Finnick had spent too long on the defensive. It was time to grab hold of what he wanted. It was time to go hunting.


	21. Lighthouse

“Alright, Mr Odair. The president will see you now.”

Finnick gave the PA a perfunctory smile, then followed him inside. He wasn’t sure whether his gamble was going to pay off or not, but he knew he needed to try. Snow was sitting on a couch, perusing a map of District 4’s coastline. When the PA announced Finnick, the President didn’t look up so he was forced to stand awkwardly until Snow had finished reading.

At last, Snow put aside the map, removed his glasses, and looked up. “Won’t you sit down, Mr Odair?”

Finnick did as he was told, mouth dry. “Have you had a productive day?”

“Your mayor’s plans for a new harbour are ambitious, but I think beneficial to the district in the long run.”

“Good.”

There was a pause.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” asked the PA.

Finnick shook his head.

“No thank you, Anode,” said Snow.

Finnick assumed the assistant would leave the room. Instead Anode withdrew to a desk in the corner and began taking notes.

“I guess you came to District 4 to check up on Annie?” said Finnick.

“I’m here to approve the plans for the new harbour. My highest priority is hardly going to be your little sea nymph.”

Finnick felt wrong-footed. He’d assumed that the president’s visit had been engineered to keep tabs on Annie. But he still had to carry on like he’d planned.

“However, as I’m here I decided to get a progress update from you,” said Snow.

“I’m confident that she’ll be well enough to get through the tour in a few months.”

“We’ll see. I’m sure you know how vital it is that Annie behaves with the dignity expected of a victor. How is the girl’s mental state?”

Finnick felt a twinge in his chest as he answered. “Better than it was. But not... I don’t think she’s ever going to be the same as she was before the Games.”

“A pity. Some are strong enough to win, but not strong enough to survive,” said Snow. “But at least she has Panem’s golden boy by her side.”

The poisonous mockery in the president’s voice was hard to miss.

“And then I expect to see her back in the Capitol next year as a mentor.”

“That... that’s not going to be possible,” Finnick strained to keep his voice polite. Anode looked up from his notetaking.

“It would be too much,” said Finnick. “I’m sure she won’t make a good mentor and – well, it would be embarrassing. Bring down the tone of the Games.”

“Perhaps I want her in the Capitol for other reasons.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mr Odair, you of all people don’t need that explained to you.”

So he planned to do the same thing to Annie as he had done to Finnick.

“You don’t... she’s not like me. She won’t be able to pretend.”

“Perhaps not. But she still made quite an impression this year, thanks to those clothes you put her in – or _lack_ of clothes. There are some people who would probably see her unwillingness as an extra enjoyment.”

No. This couldn’t be happening. Snow couldn’t be suggesting this. It was too horrific, even for him.

Finnick paused, careful to make sure his voice was under control before he spoke. He couldn’t afford any wobble which would make him look weak. “What do I have to do to make sure that never happens?”

“You’ve already gone above and beyond your responsibilities as mentor.”

“Yes but – I love her,” said Finnick. “And after the Victory Tour, I want to make sure she never has to go back to the Capitol.”

“What would you do to buy her freedom?”

“Whatever you want,” said Finnick, fully aware of how dangerous his words were.

Snow looked him over, his keen eye assessing mercilessly. Being stared at like someone’s prize catch made Finnick want to look away, but he forced himself to keep his gaze directed at the president. Unflinching.

“Well, if that’s the case... on your knees, then,” said Snow.

“What?”

“You heard me, Finnick.”

Yes. Finnick had heard. He just hoped he’d gotten it wrong somehow. But, not wanting to test the president’s patience, he kneeled on the carpet.

“Anode,” Snow gestured at his PA to stand. Then he looked at Finnick. “I want you to prov how important her freedom is to you.”

Finnick knew what the president wanted, and reminded himself that he had done this before. He had done _worse_ before. But not with Snow watching, which added an extra layer of horror. He almost couldn’t believe the president was asking him to do this. In all his dealings with Snow, the man had been ruthless and cold, but never anything less than professional.

Snow looked between him and Anode, and then motioned with his finger for Finnick to move closer. So Finnick was forced to crawl forwards until he was sitting at Anode’s feet. The PA’s face was completely expressionless as he undid his belt. Finnick concentrated on imagining that this was happening to someone else, that he was watching it play out to someone who looked like he did but _wasn’t_ him. He could do this, if it meant keeping Annie safe.

Then Snow started laughing. “All right, I believe you, Mr Odair. You can get up now.”

Finnick felt his cheeks burn with shame. He _hated_ this man.

“Don’t look at me like that, Mr Odair,” said the president. “It was just a little experiment.”

Even the humourless Anode chuckled, and Finnick found that he was smiling weakly as well. He didn’t want Snow to see how humiliated he was. And maybe if he kept smiling he could convince himself that it hadn’t really been that bad.

Anode took up his stylus and quietly continued to take notes. Finnick wondered what the minutes of this meeting were going to look like. _‘4:05pm – discussed Victory Tour; 4:10pm – requested that Finnick fellate my PA because I thought it would be funny; 4:15pm – commented on the weather’._

“I had to test whether you were really serious about this girl,” said Snow.

“Yes. I am,” said Finnick lightly, sitting back down. He wasn’t really entitled to feel outraged by Snow’s request, after all the debauched things he’d done in the Capitol. “Do we have a deal?”

Snow seemed to consider for a moment, then said. “You will mentor at the Games every year. And while there, you will have double the number of patrons. You will complete every interview, advertisement and event that you are asked to attend.”

“Yes.”

“And you will be dazzling.”

“Of course.”

“And I will never again have to waste my time arranging strategies to make you behave.”

And there was confirmation of what Finnick had suspected all along. That Annie’s Reaping hadn’t been an accident. The president had known Finnick was trying to get out of mentoring this year, and had orchestrated it to punish his pathetic attempt at rebellion. Everything that had happened to Annie was his fault, because he had forgotten that he was Snow’s property.

“I accept your deal.”

The president stood, and offered his hand to shake. Finnick took it.

To his surprise, Snow smiled. “It goes without saying that you and Annie will be discreet. No one outside of your immediate circle can know, and certainly no one in the Capitol. It would spoil the image of Panem’s favourite victor.”

“Of course.”

“I think I like what Annie Cresta has done to you. Before her, you were becoming rather cynical. I don’t like cynical people, they have nothing to lose – which makes them difficult to motivate.”

“Well...thank you for your time, President Snow,”

As Finnick was about to leave, the President spoke again.

“You probably think you’ve been given a very raw deal, Mr Odair. But have you ever heard the myth of Hades and Persephone?”

“No. I’ve met some women in the Capitol called Persephone?”

“It’s an old story, but in my opinion rather a beautiful one. A young woman, the goddess of Spring, is trapped in the Underworld with Hades, its King. Eventually she is released, but because she ate six pomegranate seeds while she was captive, every winter she must return to the world below.”

“That’s a very interesting story,” said Finnick.

“But you’re lucky. One month a year in the Capitol, and eleven months here, in paradise,” said Snow, his voice layered with irony. “You’re certainly luckier than some.”

“I look forward to upholding my end of the bargain,” said Finnick.

He left the Justice Building, and ducked down a side passage where no one would see him. The more Finnick tried to breathe, the less use his lungs seemed to be. He had done nothing while Snow had forced him to kneel on the floor. Just smiled. Finnick tried to swallow the fierce, almost animalistic anger in the back of his throat, but it kept rising up. He had never hated anyone this much in his life. If he had his trident now, he would gladly go back into that office and stick it in the president’s throat.

But Annie needed him, and he couldn’t help her if he got himself arrested for some half-baked assassination attempt. Finnick closed his eyes, trying to hold onto Annie’s face. She was free, and Finnick was safe as long as he was useful to Snow. But even though he had come out of the meeting with what he wanted, somehow Finnick still felt like he had failed – or at least betrayed himself.

Well, integrity was for honest people, and Finnick couldn’t kid himself that he belonged in that category. At least now he could finally tell Annie the truth. Finnick knew he should be excited, but he couldn’t help but feel a twist in the pit of his stomach. He had never done something like this before. And Finnick had lied to her and hurt her so many times, would she even believe him now?

* * *

Annie had been so focused on perfecting the coat of paint on the doorframe that she hadn’t realised how late it was. Another day over. From the window, she could see the sun had set completely, and the velvety sky was filled with stars. Finnick would be back by now, if he had gone out on his father’s boat today. She knew she wasn’t supposed to see him, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to think about him, was she?

Setting down her brush, Annie inspected her progress and decided she might as well finish this coat before she went home. Just as she was adjusting the lamp, she heard the crunch of gravel. Someone was coming up the front path. Apprehensively, Annie went to the window, still clutching her paintbrush. It was Finnick, his tousled hair gleaming in the lamplight, the collar of his white shirt slightly rumpled.

He was about to knock on the door, but the he noticed Annie peering through the open window and came over to speak to her instead.

“Finnick...” said Annie breathlessly.

“Hello Annie. Thought I’d find you here.”

Although Finnick was smiling, there was something else hidden in his eyes. Annie would never have noticed it before, but she’d become so in tune with Finnick’s emotions that now she could always tell when anything was wrong.

“Has something happened?” she asked.

“No. Nothing. I just wanted to see you – see the renovations.”

“The house is nearly done, I think. Hopefully another couple of days’ work and it’ll be ready for Glynn’s family.”

After she had cleared out her mother’s room, Annie thought she wouldn’t be able to go back. But she had forced herself the next day, and every day until it had just felt normal. After all, Glynn had done so much for her in the arena, she had to repay him.

Finnick leant on the windowsill and looked up at her, wearing an expression which could melt half of Panem. “Are you done for the day?”

“I guess so.”

“Would you mind if I walked you home? A pretty girl and a lovely evening, it would be the highlight of my week.”

He was definitely nervous. Annie’s mind rattled from one potential disaster to another. Something to do with the Victory Tour? Or the Capitol had found out about her gift for Glynn’s family and wanted to stop her... Annie had to know before her imagination dragged her somewhere even worse.

She put down her paintbrush and joined Finnick on the porch.

“Finnick,” she said, looking directly into his eyes. “Please will you tell me what’s going on?”

The half-smile fell from his face and he stopped leaning against the wall. It was clearly something serious.

“This might be hard to hear, but it’s good news,” he said. “Can I tell you?”

Annie looked at the floor and nodded.

Finnick gently tilted her head up so her eyes met his. “I spoke to Snow today. He wants you to do the Victory Tour, but that’s it. You’ll never have to go back to the Capitol to mentor. You’re safe.”

“OK,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

Annie concentrated on closing up the house. Finnick kept glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, probably worried that his news would trigger another episode. Annie worried about it too, but she found she could finish shutting the windows and locking the front door without anything encroaching on her mind. Perhaps it was the sea breeze, but her head felt clear. Today was clearly a good day.

“Is there anything else you wanted to tell me?” asked Annie.

There was a strange pause, and then Finnick shrugged and shook his head.

Annie couldn’t quite brush away a feeling of disappointment, though she didn’t know what else she expected him to say. She tried to loosen her hair, which she had tied back to keep out of her face while she painted. But the more she pulled, the more tangled it seemed to get.

“Should I-?” said Finnick.

She nodded. Then she felt his hands in her hair as he gently worked the tie loose. Annie turned around slowly, the light from the porch casting a golden sheen on one side of Finnick’s face. She ran her hands self-consciously through her hair, trying to concentrate on anything other than his mouth.

“There is something else I had to say,” he said softly. “But I don’t know whether you’ll want to hear it.”

Annie mentally prepared all her defences. She was not going to cry or lose herself. Whatever it was, she knew she could face it and _she was alive, she was safe, she was here..._

“I wanted to tell you that I love you,” said Finnick.

“What?”

“You said before that you didn’t want me to stay out of pity, and I didn’t know how to tell you, but-”

“Finnick, what are you doing?”

He looked at her blankly. “I don’t-”

“I meant what I said about setting you free. You don’t – you can’t pretend to be in love just so you can keep an eye on me. It’s kind, but it’s not... Finnick, I’m not one of your Capitol patrons. You don’t have to pretend with me.”

He dragged his hand through his hair, exasperated. “Annie, you know I’m not good at this sort of thing. But I’m not doing this out of pity, or out of some selfless desire to help – this is probably the most selfish thing I’ve ever done. I guess I should tell you that this will put you in more danger than ever. Snow knows he can use you to get to me.”

Annie pulled herself up to her full height. “Well, I’m not scared of him.”

“I made him promise that as long as I do what he wants, he’ll leave you alone... And Annie, you asked me to be honest with you, and honestly I am in love with you.”

For a moment, Annie wanted to believe him, but then she remembered the difference between them. She had never been special, and now she was so difficult to love and Finnick was... well, _Finnick_.

“I don’t –” she mumbled.

“For the longest time, I didn’t understand what was wrong with me. All I could talk about and think about was you, how to get you back from the Games. I told myself it was because you were a family friend, because I’d promised your mother. That explained why I felt tied to you. I didn’t know what being in love felt like, which I guess is why I didn’t recognise it.”

“But you’ve never said anything?”

“Once I realised the truth, I tried to hide it. I thought I had nothing to give, except to put you in more danger than you’re in already. And you know what I have to do in the Capitol, that’s not going to change. It’ll be the same every year. I know I should feel ashamed, and I do...”

“Why should you be ashamed?”

“Because of the things I do. I’m there to serve the people who run Panem, wallowing in luxury while the rest of us fight over scraps...”

“But why should _you_ feel ashamed? President Snow should feel ashamed. The people in the Capitol who think they can buy you – they should feel ashamed. Not you.”

Finnick blinked.

“I know you think you love me, that you’ve convinced yourself... but you can’t. Look at me, Finnick, look at who I am now. The flashbacks, the bad days... I’ve been broken into pieces that can’t be fixed. I’m not someone who can be loved.”

Annie couldn’t stand the idea of Finnick deluding himself into thinking that he loved her – because he was kind and self-sacrificing like that – and then realising his mistake months later. How could she have him and then lose him? She wouldn’t be able to bear it.

“What would you say if it was the other way around?” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“If you’d mentored me in the Games, and I’d come back with scars like yours. Would you love me then?”

“Of course I would,” said Annie, without thinking. “It wouldn’t matter to me.”

“Then why won’t _you_ believe _me_?”

“It’s not the same,” she said. “I can’t – I’m sorry.”

A hurt look passed over Finnick’s face which he struggled to hide. “Well... then the only thing I ask is that you don’t cut me out of your life. Because before you, I didn’t know who I was. I didn’t want to care about anything, because I thought that if I did then I’d have to care about the things that were being done to me.”

“Finnick...” Annie resisted the urge to wrap her arms around him.

“But you forced me to care. I didn’t even know how empty my life was until you filled it up. And all I can say is that I was losing myself until I found you. You’re my lighthouse.”

“Do you mean that? Do you _actually_ love me?”

Finnick chuckled. “What do you think?”

“Prove it,” said Annie, tilting her face.

Finnick was in front of her in an instant, drawing her face towards him and planting a deep kiss on her lips. Annie stood on her tiptoes, wanting to feel more, wanting to feel everything. The way his mouth moved, the way his hands circled her waist and pulled her closer to him.

“Well?” said Finnick, coming up for air. He had turned on that melting smile of his, and Annie was sure he knew it made him impossible to argue with. She wanted to be annoyed with him, except she couldn’t be. “Do you believe me now?”

“I think so...”

He pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, his expression suddenly serious again. “Snow has been auctioning me off piece by piece for years – but whatever of my heart is mine to give belongs to you.”

Annie planted her hands on either side of Finnick’s face. “Snow sells your time. He doesn’t sell you. And you belong to yourself, to your family, your home, and to me...”

Finnick kissed her again, hoisting her up so her legs were wrapped around his waist. He pulled her back inside the darkened house. They were kissing and kissing and kissing, and then Finnick was on the floor and she was lying on top of him. And it was happening so quickly that Annie didn’t have time to be nervous.

Finnick moved her so she was lying on her side, pressed up against his chest. His hand was at the bottom of her cotton dress, grazing her thighs.

“Will you let me do something?” he whispered in her ear.

“Yes...?”

He kissed her neck while he slipped his hand underneath her skirt. Annie inhaled sharply.

“Does that hurt?”

“...No. It just feels... I don’t know.”

“Can I carry on? See if I can change your mind?”

Annie nodded.

Finnick continued to move his hand, gradually speeding up the motions. Annie felt her whole body flush with heat and she began to move her hips in rhythm with him while he whispered bad things in her ear. She had never felt so loved, so wanted as she did now.

“How am I doing?” he said.

Annie went to say words, but the only thing that came out was a soft moan. She tried again. “Y-yes...”

She felt Finnick chuckle and vary the motion of his fingers. “I’m going to need a little more feedback Annie, to make sure this is up to standard...”

“It’s – good.”

“I’m not stopping until I get at least an ‘excellent’.”

Annie moved to sit on Finnick. She scrabbled to undo his belt, not wanting clothes – or anything – between them. Finnick stopped her.

“I haven’t finished with you yet.”

But Annie could feel that Finnick was nervous, and she remembered that this was his first time too, in a way. And she had been so selfish, when she should have known how difficult this must be for Finnick, and looking for ways to make it easier for him.

“Is there anything I can do which will make you feel as good as you make me feel?” said Annie.

Finnick shrugged. “There are a few things.”

It was like he was trying to put up defences again, now, after everything. Annie knew she needed to do better. She moved up and placed a slow, tender kiss on his mouth, hoping that he understood how much she loved him. Hoping that he felt the difference between her and the Capitol socialites who wanted to own him.

“You know we can stop any time you want?” she said.

Finnick moved so they were both sitting. She thought he was going to tell her to stop again, but instead he pushed her hair away from her face and placed butterfly kisses over her eyes, her cheeks, her neck...

Hooking a finger through the strap of her sundress, he said, “Can I take this off?”

Annie nodded, and Finnick pulled it over her head. He guided her so she was lying with her back on the floor.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked.

“Yes. Is this what you want?”

Finnick kissed her again. “This is exactly what I want.”

And he covered her body with his.


	22. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...here it is - the final instalment! Thank you to all of you who have followed along with Finnick and Annie's story. It has certainly been quite an adventure, and I hope the final part lives up to all your expectations. This story and these characters are very close to my heart, and I feel very privileged to have received so many lovely comments from you. 
> 
> Emily xox

Annie pushed through the gaggle of reporters and well-wishers, searching for Finnick’s face. She had been so scared of arriving too late that she had come to the train station straight from the beach. Annie hadn’t even had time to dry her hair, which lay in thick, wet ropes down her back. It wasn’t as long as it had been before it was cut off for the Games, but it had almost grown back.

Finnick appeared by the train, shouldering a black rucksack. He waved affably at the crowd, and exchanged a few quips with one of the reporters. His careless good humour made Annie’s stomach clench, because she knew how angry and scared he really was about having to go back to the Capitol. But no matter what he really felt, he was impeccably skilled at looking pleased to be there.

They had both carefully avoided talking about the upcoming Games for as long as possible. But as the time grew closer, Annie could feel Finnick grow more and more tense and withdrawn. Yesterday had been the first time they’d spoken about anything more than the logistics of his trip.

Annie had woken up in the middle of the night, expecting to find Finnick stretched out next her. Instead, the other side of the bed was empty. Disoriented, Annie glanced about the darkened room. Finnick was sitting on the floor in a patch of moonlight, his arms drawn around his knees, looking out the window at the inky sky.

“Finnick?” she said softly.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he half turned around. She still couldn’t see his face properly. “Sorry.”

“Are you coming back to bed?”

Silence. Annie knew they were both thinking about the weeks stretching before them, about the things Finnick would be compelled to do in the Capitol. And how they would have to face every difficulty separately. She pushed back the bedsheets and knelt down behind him. Annie gently rested her hand on his shoulder, but he didn’t move or even acknowledge her touch. Instead, he kept looking out the window.

“Finnick, are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Promise me you’ll look after yourself while I’m away? Carry on eating and with your swimming-”

“Yes.”

“And obviously you’ve got all those orders to fulfil,” she felt him half-smile.

He always called the fishnets she wove ‘orders’, although of course no one was paying Annie to make them. It had started out with a few of friends of Mr Odair asking for favours, but it had soon snowballed into a full-scale project, so that anyone who couldn’t afford to replace their gear asked her instead. Annie didn’t mind, of course, and liked to feel that there was something people needed from her.

“And obviously you have my mother and Mags if anything goes wrong...” Finnick’s voice sounded brittle, as if he had rehearsed these words before.

“I’m alright,” said Annie, more bravely than she felt.

She leaned forwards so she was resting against Finnick’s back, and wrapped her arms around him. In all honesty, she was dreading the weeks stretching out ahead of her without Finnick. But she couldn’t make this parting any more difficult for him than it was already. If she had to skirt around the truth to stop him worrying about her, then she was happy to tell a few lies.

Annie felt a warm drop fall onto her arm. Finnick sniffed and quickly wiped his face.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” she whispered, burying her face in his neck.

“I wanted to be calm, so I could help you through this.”

“You’re the one going away. I should be helping you.”

The silence was painfully thick. Annie wanted more than anything to forget about the consequences and beg Finnick to stay. She needed him. She couldn’t stand the idea of him going to the Capitol, of him being passed around those glittering, grabby socialites who didn’t truly care about him. Annie felt that if she let him go now, she might not get him back. But she knew that if she asked him to stay, Finnick would do it. And then both of them would be punished.

Finnick turned and buried his face in Annie’s lap like a child. “I don’t want to go.”

“I know,” she tangled her fingers in his unruly hair. “But you just need to get through the month, and then you’ll be back with me.”

Finnick was grabbing onto her desperately. “I can’t go back. I can’t do it.”

“You can. It’s just a month. And it’s different this time, because you’re not on your own. Peggy will help you with your tribute, and I’ll be waiting for you to come back.”

He slowly exhaled. “There’s something else I haven’t told you.”

“What is it?”

“Let’s go down to the beach...”

It was the middle of the night, but Annie agreed instantly. Finnick always took her there when he had something important to say, something he didn’t want the Capitol to overhear. Annie threw on one of Finnick’s old jumpers and took his hand as he pulled her down the winding path. They both kicked off their shoes and paddled through the black, night-time waters. His hand grasped hers tightly, but Annie liked the discomfort – it made Finnick feel more real, when she knew he was about to disappear. It was strange to be allowed to hold his hand outside. Hopefully it was late enough that no one else would be out, or if they were then they wouldn’t recognise the two teenagers on the deserted stretch of beach.

“When I was in the Capitol last year, someone approached me and asked for my help – they’re trying to stop the Games and overthrow Snow.”

Annie felt a tightness in her chest. So the resistance wasn’t just a rumour or a memory. People really were trying to end the nightmare that they were all being forced to live through.

“What did you say?” she asked.

The moonlight was just strong enough to see Finnick raise an eyebrow. “Well, what do you think? Can you really see me working on assassination plots and protest bombings? Anyway, what would happen to you if I got caught?”

Annie shivered, the cold night air getting under the layers of her clothes.

Finnick noticed her reaction. “Sorry.”

Despite the indifference Finnick projected, Annie was sure he wouldn’t have brought it up now unless something was still playing on his mind.

“What would you have said to them, if you didn’t have me?”

Finnick shrugged. “I don’t know. I never really saw myself as the sort to die for a noble cause, but I think I hate Snow and his cronies enough to volunteer, even if it is hopeless.”

“Why is it hopeless?”

“Well, you don’t really think that they’ll win? The rebels tried it before and they failed. I mean, the Games have been going on for seventy years, they aren’t stopping any time soon.”

Annie dug her toes into the damp sand and picked her words carefully. “You know the legends that people from District 4 tell, of mermaids and sea witches and princes with noble blood?”

“Yes?” said Finnick, looking puzzled.

“Those stories were forged in lands ruled by kings and queens, who were supposed to be ordained by a higher power. The people then must have thought that it would always be that way, that those dynasties would rule forever... but now there are no kings. Nothing lasts forever.”

“I’m still not going to risk your life for it, Annie.”

“I’m in danger anyway, all of us are... while the Games exist, while the Capitol feeds on our hard work and misery. Before all of this, I imagined that if I did what I was told and kept my head down, then I’d be able to avoid the worst of it. But if the Games taught me anything, it’s that none of us are free. I’m not saying you _should_ do it – that’s your choice, not mine. But don’t let the thought of me stop you.”

Finnick’s hands found her waist, and he pulled her to him. “I’ll think about it. But if I decide to do it, then I’m telling you nothing. That way, if something happens to me, you might still have a chance.”

“That’s probably best.”

Annie slipped her arm around Finnick. The lines of his body felt unfamiliar to her. His usually lean swimmer’s body had changed over the past couple of months. He had received orders from the Capitol, who had organized a strict weight training programme for him, and a diet of asparagus and chicken. Finnick was now all muscle, which Annie found a bit strange, and stranger too that the Capitol seemed to be so obsessed with Finnick, but still wanted to change everything about him.

“I don’t really know what I’d contribute to a revolution. My only skills are fishing and getting fucked.”

“Finnick, you know that’s not true. The whole of Panem is in love with you. And you can ask for things in a way that’s impossible to refuse. I would have thought that could come in a lot of use.”

“I think you’re overestimating my skills.”

“Well, I think you’re underestimating them,” said Annie.

He looked out at the midnight sea, absentmindedly playing with the ends of her hair. “I wish we could run away together – steal my father’s boat, sail to some distant shore and start a new life. Then I wouldn’t have to...”

“I know,” she said, squeezing his hand tightly. “I’ll be thinking of you every day while you’re gone.”

“I hate having to leave you like this. But I’m glad I have you. You’re my reason to come back.”

Finnick’s words from last night were heavy in her heart as she watched him board the train. Annie hung back, not wanting to draw attention to herself. The station was full of people, which meant it was somewhere they had to pretend to be strangers. Here, Finnick wasn’t hers. He was public property.

Annie had to have faith that someday, sometime in the future, things would be different. That she would be able to walk down Main Street holding Finnick’s hand in the middle of the day. That he would be able to stay with her every month of the year.

But they didn’t live in that world yet. Annie pushed back tears as Finnick’s train began to pull out of the station, not wanting to give him another reason to worry about her. Finnick lent out of the window, waving at the crowd. For a moment, his eyes locked with hers. Annie smiled, and touched her hand to her heart. She couldn’t say she loved him, but she wanted him to know that she would be waiting for him when he got back.


End file.
